Of Blood and Sacrifice
by Elrodienne
Summary: "Evelyn had nobody in her life to sit in these chairs. Nobody to care for her, to call, to visit, to worry…except for himself. So that's what he would do." Mitchell is finally getting his life back in order after George's death. When a new woman moves into town with problems of her own, his life is unexpectedly turned upside down & is brought on challenges both new & familiar.
1. A New Beginning

Of Blood & Sacrifice

A New Beginning

Annie drew back the curtains a half an inch for the thousandth time that day, peering down the road twelve houses down.

"I wish we could tell her. Living in there would give me the spooks…and I'm already dead," she said with a frown tugging at her eyebrows. She was speaking to Mitchell, who was perched on the slightly tattered brown couch and scanning the day's headlines in the paper. "Oh God, Mitchell, we _have_ to tell her! I mean…what if she finds something in there or, or…_sees_ something she shouldn't?" she extended her arms in a stressed manner.

"We can't, and even if we did, you know exactly the reaction we'd get," he said, finally breaking his gaze to look up at Annie's distressed face. "Even if we could, even if an ordinary human _could_ understand…I still wouldn't want to tell them." Annie gave up and turned back to one of her many suitcases which were nearly full. Mitchell sat back into the couch, staring blankly at the wall, "Anyway, they've cleaned the place up, so nothing will be found and the media already spoke out to the public years ago. The chances are high that she knows about it." As much as he constantly reiterated the whole "humans won't understand" concept, deep inside he and every one of his kind were aware of how much suspicion was being placed on the supernatural. There have been too many cases in the past of vampiric teeth marks in hundreds of human necks, far too large to diagnose as a spider bite, far too large to out-question human – or rather, vampire – involvement.

The big news in town was that a young woman was moving into the flat twelve houses down from where Mitchell and Annie now resided. It was an uncomfortable and unbelievable occurrence as their best friends, George, Nina and their child, Eve, was killed in that very flat nine years ago. No one had so much as laid a foot in the place since the event, minus investigation teams and reporters. The reporters who had truly no idea what the real story was, and announced to the public that it was a homicide with an unknown motive. But Mitchell and Annie knew the real story, but it was a story to be left for another day….

Mitchell and Annie had tried and tried to convince authorities and anyone who would listen to destroy the house after they gathered evidence, but to no avail. Instead, it had been left vacant up until they decided to fix up the place last year. The deaths of their best friends, their only true friends and their child, had struck a chord that was left vibrating for a long time, but more especially for Mitchell. Just as he was beginning to move on with his life to try to feel normal again, Annie broke the news a few months ago that she'd be packing up and leaving for Australia with her new fiancé.

The truth was, Mitchell was losing everything that was once permanent in his life. When he was young and human, he lost his parents. One-hundred and fifty years ago, he lost his normal life. And ever since then he has lost control on and off. Now he would be losing Annie, and possibly his sanity. His struggle with staying clean was always a complication and a struggle, and it probably always would be. When George and Nina had Eve, Mitchell made an oath to stay clean if for no one else's sake but the baby's. However, after George's death, it had been a downhill spiral for two years. He relapsed continuously over those two years, though the one thing he did have in control was not staying local so as not to draw any more attention to him and Annie. After the two-year slump, Annie convinced him to go clean again. While he was mostly faithful to this promise, he had begun a small, short-lived stint with drugs, mainly heroin. He hadn't confessed this to Annie. Sometimes he would find a source of blood and mix the two together. He blushed to admit it, but it had _always_ been a struggle to stay clean of blood, especially after losing his best friend. Now after hearing the news of Annie's upcoming leave, he felt the urge now more than ever for a fix. However, he was becoming keen on the drug for a slightly different reason than the other users: whenever he felt the urge to feed, the drug calmed him to a euphoric state and typically he avoided having to feed. The other problem was that he almost enjoyed the feeling of forgetfulness and a worriless day when he did take it. But it had been nearly a year since he had last touched the stuff, and as long as it was out of his reach, he wouldn't worry about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

He knew if he told Annie this now, she would cancel her entire future just to stay with him and help him _just in case_ he relapsed in either way – blood or heroin. But he couldn't do that to her; she had finally found love – with a ghost, no less – and was making a life for herself. Perhaps this was her life's purpose, and how could he take that away from her so selfishly? She spent fifteen years of her life with him and he couldn't blame her for wanting to start a new life with new beginnings. It was hard living so close to the house where their best friends were killed and she assumed Mitchell was in a perfectly healthy state by now.

"You should meet her at least," Annie said with a chipper tone and a smile, seemingly appearing out of thin air as she so often did. Mitchell gave a small jump at her sudden reappearance and looked up at her almost bewildered.

"I should…what?" He asked, for confirmation that he heard correctly. It had been quite some time since he made new friends, and he wasn't too sure befriending the woman living where George had died was such a great idea.

"You know…be social again." Mitchell smirked and she laughed lightly, looking up at the ceiling as if there were any ideas up there.

"Right, because I've been such a socialite my whole life," he joked, letting out a laugh.

"Well, then it's time to make friends. Have fun. You can't possibly just sit around here ogling at the newspaper every day." She said, meeting Mitchell's doubtful and playfully irritated expression. "Well, maybe you technically can…but you shouldn't. It's not good for you, and it won't be good for me to be a few countries over worrying about how you're getting on." She felt defeated when he didn't respond right away, sighing. "Make a new _life_. It's what I'm doing…it's what George would have wanted." She said the last part in almost a whisper, feeling the threat of tears stinging her eyes. It seemed to have struck a chord with Mitchell, as he appeared in front of her suddenly. She hadn't noticed he even moved, but that was because her tears were now blinding her eyes as she felt Mitchell's arms wrap around her shoulders. She returned the hug, burying her face into his shoulder.

"It's going to be lonely without you here. Even if you are a ghost," he said as they both smiled, Annie trying to regain her composure. She pulled away a bit so she could see his face. She was beyond grateful that even after their brief romantic relationship that they could still remain best friends without any awkward nuisances dividing them. Mitchell was staring at her, trying to read her thoughts on her face. She didn't look convinced about something and he knew it was about him. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Listen to me. I'm going to be fine. Don't worry about me; I'm nearing a hundred and seventy-five years every single day. I'm positive I have enough life experience under my belt to take care of myself. I managed it before I met you or even George." As persuading as he made this sound, in his head he knew there was at least some lack of truth to this.

There was also a lot of truthlessness to it. Before Herrick had recruited him, he had lived on his own for a few years after his parents had passed away. After recruitment, he was on his own minus Herrick watching his every move, but he didn't fare so well being so blood-thirsty all the time. It was when he saw poor George lying defenselessly against his own kind that he decided to go clean. When they met Annie, his attempt was confirmed to be a great idea. Annie made him strive to be different. Unfortunately, there were several slip-ups, both with vampires and ordinary, innocent humans. He swore to Annie he would take these sins to his grave. For a long time, maybe even half a year, Annie wouldn't speak to him. It took a good year for her to communicate with him properly again. The massacre he was involved in took place just three months before George's death. He has since been forgiven, but his mistakes were not forgotten by either of them and he didn't expect any less. It put such a strain on their relationship that they mutually decided to stay friends, and it alleviated a lot of stress.

Annie shook her head, seeming to be convinced he was being honest. A part of her, a little spark, still felt some anxiety about him being left alone however. "Alright, enough blubbering from me! I need to get packing or me and Cedric will miss our flight." She let that sink in a moment. "Ha! Imagine that, two ghosts on an airplane. And we don't even need to buy seats!" She chuckled to herself as she headed upstairs to gather more of her clothes. Mitchell was grinning, then sighed as he pictures, for the first time, what his future in this house was going to look like in just three short hours. Even with all the collectibles and decorations, the room felt unnaturally empty.

-3 hours later-

Mitchell stopped halfway into his front door. He had just said his goodbyes to Annie and wished her and Cedric good wishes, but he didn't feel quite ready to step inside the barren house just yet. Annie's voice rang in his head about meeting new people; she made sure to drill this into his head until the very last second she was still present in this country. He closed his door and looked to his left, twelve houses down. The new neighbor girl's lights were on inside. He felt his stomach drop, imagining a full, happy life that should have been George, Nina, and Eve. He pictured having to go through this process of deciding whether he needed to keep his true self a secret, to keep another innocent human life, out of peril…or if he would spill the beans. But whenever he decided the latter, the other person wound up deceased because of him and his anxiety and fear of being ratted out. He clenched his jaw and eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as he forced his feet to move in the direction of the new neighbor. He was swamped in his own thoughts and before he realized it, he was at the stoop of 301 Boyd Street. Feeling his heart pounding, his hands dampening beneath his gloves, he took one step and knocked on the black door.


	2. Introductions & Revelations

Introductions & Revelations

Mitchell stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was half tempted to forget this idea and dart back home before anyone noticed he was there. The problem was there was already a group of chatty neighbors behind him across the street, no doubt gossiping about the newcomer. They had been there before Mitchell even arrived. He thought it was odd, but he was sure it was due to the fact that this particular residence had been vacant for nine years until now. He felt a certain sickness in his insides, and when the door opened, he half expected to see George's face again.

Mitchell looked up, having been daydreaming whilst gazing at the concrete steps below him. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but two things occurred at once: The whiff of the scent the inside of the house brought on resurfaced several feelings at once. Rage, sadness, revenge. But besides that, the most beautiful creature stood before him. She had a pale complexion, vibrant green eyes, and her cheeks were dusted with light brown freckles. Her hair was a chestnut brown and wavy, ending just before her elbows. There was certain tiredness to her face though, and he assumed this was due to the stresses of the moving process.

"Can I help you?" She asked a bit hesitantly. She was clearly put off by his intense talent for eye contact, and his jaw was still hanging open.

Mitchell blinked and came back to reality. "Oh, sorry. I was just in the neighborhood and…well, actually I live down the street, but I'd heard someone was moving in here and I thought I'd come and…introduce myself." There was a long silence; he was put off by the increasing crowd across the street. This was one of the few times Mitchell had made a public appearance, minus some grocery shopping, but usually Annie did that.

The woman in front of him had an intrigued smile on her face and her eyebrows rose. It was only then Mitchell realized he had not actually introduced himself. "Ah, sorry, John Mitchell," he took a step forward and extended his hand. "But I usually just go by Mitchell."

She smiled, taking his hand into a gentle shake. "Evelyn O'Gorman and it's nice to meet you, Mitchell." Her smile widened a bit as they took their hands back. Her eyes caught sight of the ever-growing crowd behind Mitchell, and even though they were across the street, they weren't trying very hard to disguise their chatter as just a friendly round of catch-up. "Er, do you want to come in?" She asked, feeling uncomfortable with the situation outside.

Mitchell drew in a breath through his teeth; this was sort of what he was afraid of. But given the expression Evelyn's face, he agreed. "Sure, good idea."

Evelyn closed the door behind them once they were inside, peering through the small door window. They were still there, but at least they couldn't see her or Mitchell. She turned to him as he was looking about the place. "Sorry, I think I overpacked so there's not much room to walk." Her cheeks flushed just slightly. There was an abundance of boxes on the floor, some of them still unopened and others with clothes and other objects hanging out of them.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've done this enough times to know what it's like," Mitchell gave an encouraging smile, though to be honest he didn't have nearly a quarter of material items whenever he moved. He basically just had his clothes and George was the one with the most possessions.

Evelyn returned his smile and shoved some of the boxes in a corner with her foot, leaving enough room to get to the couch. "So, are they always like that?" She asked, prodding her thumb toward the door."

Mitchell leaned against one of the stark white walls and nodded, scrunching his face a bit. "Unfortunately, yeah. Although I don't know why in particular today…," he fibbed. He could tell she wasn't from around her, so chances were nil that she ever saw the story on the news about the so-called 'homicide'. He didn't want to spook her on her first night here, and even so, the homicide story was completely false.

"Probably since there was the electrical fire. I bet they're dying to know what it looks like in here now," she said with complete innocence in her tone, and Mitchell's suspicions were proven correct. So the landlord told her it was an electrical fire…how clever.

Mitchell kept a straight face. "Oh yeah, yeah. It looks good though. It just needs a bit of paint. But it still looks like it used to," he said convincingly. Something he said caught her attention as she began boiling a pot of water.

Evelyn looked over at him from the kitchen. "You've been in here before?"

Mitchell swallowed a small lump in his throat, "a friend of mine used to live here. With his wife and his daughter."

Evelyn suddenly realized, by the look on his face which had fallen, what that meant. "Oh, I'm sorry. Wow…may I ask what happened, or what is it related to the…" she trailed off, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy for even prodding into such a personal conversation.

He nodded, still staring at the newly-installed wood flooring, "It is. I mean, yes. They died in the fire." For a moment he pictured the night he came home from work and the street being blocked off. There were flames pluming from the house and half of it had been demolished already. You couldn't tell by what it looked like today, but that was a night he would never forget. He had expected to see George, Nina, and Eve standing within the large crowd overseeing the damage. But he had overheard a paramedic choking from smoke inhalation and telling his commander that they only found burnt remains of three bodies, and it looked as if they'd been victims of an attack before the fire got to them.

Mitchell didn't realize he had completely zoned out, jaw clenched in anger, until Evelyn had stopped in front of him with a fresh cup of tea. Smiling, he took it graciously. "Thank you," he gingerly sipped the piping hot drink and then remembered what he had wanted to ask her. "Where did you live before here?"

She took a seat on the couch. "Ireland. Well, Adare to be more precise. What about you?" She cupped her tea in her hands, waiting for it to cool.

Mitchell had to think about what his answer would be. To be honest, he never had one particular residence. He moved around so much in his long life, and most of the time it was because of his horrific past that he kept trying to escape. That's why he was here now, in Kent. So far he had been mostly successful, at least in terms of not involving himself with vampire clans. "Well, I've moved quite a lot, but I was born in Belfast. I actually was living with my friend George, the one who lived here last, and our friend Annie. Now I'm all by my lonesome," he said the last part with a mocking to.

"I see," she said. "My parents used to visit there all the time when I was little. But I was too young to remember it."

Mitchell took a seat next to her on the opposite end of the couch. In the back of his mind, he could smell her blood. Strangely, it smelled weak. Either his sobriety was working, or she just had an underwhelming scent.

"Have you ever visited the Skellig Islands?" He asked inquisitively, downing the rest of his tea. Tea made him miss Annie's company, and he forgot he'd be returning to an empty house soon. When Evelyn shook her head 'no', he gave her a bewildered expression and shook his head in mock disappointment. "That…is blasphemy. It's probably the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen in my entire life."

Evelyn chuckled at his reaction. "I never really got out much, at least not until now. I've had a mostly traditional life with school and everything."

"Oh, yeah? Is that why you've moved here?" Mitchell inquired, getting up to wash his tea mug.

"Mostly, yes." She responded, and Mitchell could sense there was a history to her answer, but he didn't want to push her.

"What are you in school for?" He continued, taking back his seat on the couch.

"I'm actually starting a theatre and dance program in a couple weeks. What about you? I mean, are you in school or anything?" She inquired, looking over at him. She wasn't even sure how old he was; she wouldn't guess anything over 30, if that. She hadn't really gotten a genuine look at him since she'd met him, but he truly was very handsome. He had unique features and had an interesting, almost rock-and-roll fashion sense.

Mitchell looked down at his hands in his lap. "Not school, no. Not really my thing. But I'm actually going to get a job at the hospital. I used to work at one a while back but Annie and I ended up moving here." He actually hadn't really considered getting a job yet, but somehow Evelyn's achievements made him feel a bit disappointed in himself. Really, he was a bit envious. There wasn't much a vampire could do, no real job he could truly have. It was too risky.

Evelyn watched him speak almost as if he were full of shame, or distracted by a thought. "Is Annie your girlfriend?" She asked with no tone of scrutiny, just genuine curiosity.

Mitchell was taken aback for a moment; he hadn't expected a question like that. "Oh no, just a very good friend of mine. Well, we did have a sort of thing for a short while but we were a lot better as best friends. But she's actually on her way to Australia right now with her fiancé. You would probably love her, everyone does." He gave a sideways smile which Evelyn returned.

"I would love to meet her. Although it might be a little hard given the distance…" She said, and they laughed. Mitchell looked out the window. It was already dark out and he was feeling like he was overstaying his welcome. After all, he had only planned to introduce himself via Annie's suggestion.

"I should probably get going and let you finish your business." He nodded toward all of her boxes. "But if you end up needing any help or need ay recommendations for coffee, I know a _great_ place." He said with a friendly smile.

"I might have to take you up on that, I've a feeling I'll be unpacking until school starts. And I still need to paint, I feel like I'm living in an interrogation room." She joked as she walked to him to the door.

"Cool, well it's not hard to find me. I'm in the obnoxious blue house just down the street here." As he stepped outside he pointed down to his house, realizing it was dark. "Well, you'll see it tomorrow. I'll see you." He flashed a grin and headed back home.

"See you!" She called, shutting the door behind her. When she turned around and saw all that she had left to do, she sighed. This was going to take ages.

A week had passed, and more had happened than Mitchell had expected. The day after he met Evelyn, he got a job as a hospital cleaner. Thankfully he had plenty of references from his last location, so it was nearly an immediate hire. It wasn't a noble or prestigious job by any means, but he preferred having a job in solitude. Plus, it was a comfort position – he and George used to work in the same place, just different positions. They would often pass each other by and make offensive comments to each other en route to their destinations. His was usually the toilets.

Every day since then, he and Evelyn spent more time together. She had visited his house the day after they met, bribing him with coffee if he showed her where this café he always mentioned was.

One of the days he had helped her unpack, he was gifted with the clothing box. She had been in the next room fiddling with something else when he picked up a bra. He nearly had a panic attack as he threw it with all his force back in the box, taking other shirts out and piling them over it as if it were a tarantula. His eyes and mouth were gaping open and he turned only his eyes toward the room where Evelyn was, but she hadn't been looking. It wasn't like he had never seen such an article of clothing before, but it made him feel immensely awkward. He had only just met her yet it felt like he had already taken her clothes off, and he had already had an incident years ago of being labeled a pedophile. He knew Evelyn was nearer his age, but he still didn't want her to think he was a major pervert.

Every day they learned a bit more about each other, and every so often she would suddenly appear exhausted. He could see it in her face and hear it when she spoke. He figured it was the new change, new climate that was causing this, but he didn't want to pry unless she mentioned it.

He told her all about George and Annie and their times together. How Annie would make three times the amount of tea they needed just because she loved making it. How George understood him when he was only thinking something. How both Annie and George were his closest friends in all his life, and eventually Nina joined them. She was perfect for George. She didn't judge when he had accidentally scratched her and changed her entire lifestyle; she just happily went with it so long as she got to do it alongside George. Of course they all had their spats now and again; no relationship was perfect and it wouldn't grow without them. Of course he hid his best-kept secret from her that would be saved for another time a long way from now. He couldn't tell her he served in war because if she told her which one, then he'd _have_ to explain himself. He could lie and make up a different time, but there was enough information he was withholding. Because of what he hid from her, there was a lot about him he could not share. Although he probably wouldn't want to share much of it anyway, a lot of it was unpleasant.

In return, she explained the other reason she had moved besides school. Her parents had been the victims of a drunk driving accident when she was seventeen. Her father had been killed on impact and her mother survived, but she was left with severe disabilities. Evelyn finished her final year of high school while taking care of her disabled mother every day, with the help of a caregiver a couple days a week. She had no siblings or other extended family, so she was all her mother had. She put off her college ambitions to care for her mother until her mother passed away a year ago. She had been left with a generous amount of money – nothing to make her rich by any means, but enough to get her by at home, enroll in college, and move to Kent. She was 25 now.

Mitchell was at the hospital; it was his fourth day on the job. Although this was a separate hospital from the last one he worked in, nearly everything was the same: the scrubs, the duties, the people, the stale atmosphere of the hospital which often reeked of several blood types. He would be seeing Evelyn again later, and believe him when he had gotten a phone call from Annie just a couple days ago to check in already. One of the first things she asked was if anything had changed while she'd been gone; it'd only been three days since. But believe or not, things had changed. Maybe not significantly, but it was a substantial improvement to what his life was a month ago, even two weeks ago. Annie was a blessing to have around…he was sure she was the only thing keeping him sane.

Mitchell was mopping the hallway when the double doors just down the hall swung open violently. There were four nurses scurrying down the hall toward him with a body on the stretcher. They were speaking frantically to each other, checking notes, papers, the patient's face. He quickly leapt out of the way and when they ran past him, he got a quick glimpse of the body on the stretcher.

Such a familiar face…the petite face, those lips…those freckles…

His brow furrowed as he craned his neck down the hall as they rolled the patient through a room. That patient looked so familiar, yet…she looked so ill with her closed eyes and peaked skin tone. The one thing that threw him off was the cap on her head, he just couldn't be sure….

He continued to mop, though this time his mind was elsewhere. He squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose.

Frustrated, he waited a bit for the nurses to get situated. After about twenty minutes of stalling in the hall, in which he was surprised nobody yelled at him to get a move on, he made stride down the hall. When no nurses were around, he leaned close to the wall where a name plate stuck: _O'Gorman, Evelyn._

His heart sank. It couldn't have been. He peered through the glass window and saw a doctor fidgeting about with some nurses and the patient, but one of the nurses caught sight of him staring and shooed him away from the other side. He didn't budge, which prompted the nurse to meet him in the hall.

"May I help you, sir? Don't you have a job to do?" She looked him up and down and nodded at his mop. He completely ignored her retort.

"Is she alright?" He asked, still frowning with worry.

"May I ask what your relationship to the patient is?" She asked, clearly unenthused and impatient with him. Her hand was on her hip now.

"Just…a friend. You wouldn't by any chance know if this…Evelyn, has been admitted in here before?" He wouldn't take his eyes off the window, but the nurses and doctor were blocking any view he had of the patients face. He still wasn't convinced it was _the_ Evelyn he knew. But it was more his wanting to be naïve that was the problem.

"I am not authorized to hand out any private patient information." She saw the distraught concern on his face when he finally broke his gaze to stare at her. For a moment, she swore they flickered a pure, demonic black color. She blinked, and they were normal. She looked up and down the hall for any listening ears before she leaned in, "Between you and me…we were faxed her medical documents from home. She has been recently diagnosed with bone cancer. That's all we know for now. But the poor girl has no known family to contact so I guess she's on her own for now." Looking down the hall, she noticed one of the managers headed their way. She looked up at Mitchell and backed up a bit. "If I were you I'd get back to work before he reports you." She nodded to the figure approaching Mitchell.

Mitchell nodded and muttered a quick 'thank you' before turning around to continue working. He smiled brightly at his manager. "I took a late lunch break. I'll be going now." He made his way down the hall and stepped into the cleaning room, closing the door behind him. He was digesting this information. If Evelyn had cancer, why wouldn't she have told him? And what had happened that she ended up in here? He still had another three hours to his shift, but he wasn't sure he could wait that long to find out what happened.

He stuffed the mop into the water bucket and stuck his out into the hallway. There was no sign of anyone that mattered to catch him as he slipped out through the exit doors.

He fumbled with his keys when he arrived at his doorstep. He walked in, ran upstairs, changed into his everyday clothes, and headed down the road toward Evelyn's house. He was ninety-nine percent positive it was her in that hospital bed, but that one percent was nagging at him. When we didn't get an open door after waiting a few minutes, he made his way back to the hospital.

All he had to hope was that his manager didn't see him and lose his job. He wasn't exactly being all incognito. He wasn't even sure what he expected to get out of this. He wasn't family, so he likely wouldn't be able to be present in the room anytime soon. He found his way back into the same hallway and took a seat outside the room Evelyn was staying in. The door was still shut and there were still several nurses in the room moving about. He noticed the vacant chairs on either of his sides, and then it hit him: Evelyn had nobody in her life to sit in these chairs. Nobody to care for her, to call, to visit, to worry…except for himself.

And that's what he would do. All he had to do now was wait.


	3. A Bond

_**Hello, all! Popping in to thank any and all who have read/followed my story thus far. I have many eventful plots planned ahead and hope you enjoy them as much as I have/will creating them. It only gets better from here. If anyone has any critique, suggestions on what they'd like to see (fuel my imagination!), or anything of those sorts, feel free to let me know.**_

Ch. 3: A Bond

"Sir," came a muffled voice. Mitchell was in a deep slumber, his head lolled to the side against the wall.

"Sir?" rang the voice again, this time a bit louder.

"_Sir!"_ Mitchell swatted at the hand that was shaking his shoulder fairly violently. He squinted his eyes at the blinding hospital lights in his eyes. He groaned as he began to lift his head back to normal, feeling the terrible soreness he was about to succumb to for sleeping in such a way.

His eyes crinkled as they adjusted to the light, he looked up at the nurse who was responsible for his startle.

"Sorry to wake you, sir, but unless you're family, all visitors were supposed to have left four hours ago." She said. She was friendly, plump with short brown hair, but spoke with warning as if she were afraid security would be called on Mitchell.

His eyes widened some at this news. What time _was _it? The last thing he remembered was watching nurses and doctors walk to and from Evelyn's room. "I'm, uh…I'm her cousin." He lied, shifting himself up straight in his seat. His bum was numb. He stared the nurse dead in the eyes as if he challenged her to counter his statement.

There was silence…she was definitely trying to decide if he was a liar or not. He was too groggy to argue.

"Well…_cousin_…" she sneered, but he could tell she was being a smart alec. He assumed midnight shifts would do that to you. "You can stay, but I'll have to ask you to move to the lobby. It's just down there here on the left. The dining hall is open until two."

She unclipped a pen from her breast pocket and took a clipboard out from under her arm, and Mitchell just nodded in response. He noticed she was now perched at a small station just outside of Evelyn's room. The lights were off in the room.

Mitchell stood, stretching his arms above his head as he did so and feeling the blood rush back to all his extremities. He had only just now noticed how calm everything was now; it was a contrast compared to the havoc he had witnessed when he was awake.

He started in the direction of the lobby, but turned on his heel back toward the nurse who had woken him. "Um, ma'am…"

"Yes?" She didn't break her gaze from whatever she was writing.

Mitchell pocketed his hands and walked a little closer so that only she was in earshot. "Did they say what happened? That is, why Evelyn wound up in here? Only by the time I got here they were too busy working on her and I didn't want to get in the way." He flashed a brilliant smile just for a moment, hoping it would encourage her to give him some sort of information.

She glanced at him before clicking her pen closed and sliding it back into her pocket. She leaned against the small counter and sighed. "Well, according to her after she woke up, she said she was walking outside when she felt feint. She doesn't remember falling, but luckily some neighbors were outside to find her in time and called an ambulance. It turns out her blood levels dropped, but she got a transfusion and after some rest she should be okay. We want to keep her for another day or two to be sure, though."

Mitchell swallowed, trying to take all this information he had gathered in the last 8 hours into consideration. He wasn't entirely educated in the health field, at least not anything like this.

The only thing he knew like the back of his hand were the before and after side effects of blood thirst.

"But she's going to be fine?" His voice cracked a bit. He blamed this on just having woken up.

The nurse, who Mitchell noticed was named Deborah on her badge, nodded reassuringly. "She suffered a pretty nasty cut on her face, but many cancer patients wound easily. As long as her blood count is stable again, which we expect it will be, she'll be able to go home in no time." Deborah cleared her throat and looked at her watch, "alright hon, I have another patient to check in on, but have yourself a seat in the lobby. If you're staying the night we'll let you know if anything changes. Oh…and we'll let Evelyn know her cousin is here." Deborah waddled in the other direction.

"Cous-?" He instantly caught himself – _real smooth_, he thought. _Nearly gave yourself away not five minutes after you lie. _Thankfully, she didn't notice.

Mitchell took one last peek through Evelyn's window, but it was too dark to see anything. He looked up at the clock; it was nearly 1 'o clock. He had a day off tomorrow as it was the weekend.

Making his way down the elevator with an elderly couple in awkward, elevator silence fashion, he couldn't figure out why this particular couple was staring at him with fear. His brows furrowed slightly, running through his head. He hadn't just killed anyone, so there was that…

Then he saw it: the ceiling of the elevator was reflective glass, and his appearance was absent beside the elderly couple. He tried to make this observation inconspicuous, but when they'd noticed that _he_ noticed, he saw the woman shuffle closer to her husband. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for this uncomfortable situation to end before they questioned him.

Finally, he felt the familiar drop in his stomach when the elevator came to a halt, and he was nearly walking through the doors like a ghost before they even opened. He power-walked his way to the dining hall, following the signs hanging from the walls.

When he turned the corner, he saw the elders poking their heads out of the elevator doors until he disappeared around the corner. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding until he reached the cafeteria.

He ordered a decaf coffee and sat at one of the wooden square tables; the room was vacant minus the workers.

Finally, he had time to digest everything. He had only know Evelyn for a week, but he still couldn't imagine she hadn't told him about her condition.

Then again, it's not as if he'd been completely honest about his identity either.

He cupped his hot coffee between his hands. He wished he had more knowledge about this sort of thing…about all sorts of things, really. Not only was he relatively clueless about anything cancer-related, but his ability to cater to a cancer patients' emotional needs were lackluster as well.

What if Evelyn never wanted him to know about her situation, just as he didn't -no, _couldn't_ - tell her about his? Hers was at least normal amongst the human race that he _did _know.

What if she didn't want his company? They had just met, yet he felt some sort of obligation, for lack of a better term, to help her. She had nobody to turn to and she began uni in a week. Surely she would need some sort of support, right? He knew he did in his worst of times, though he was lucky enough to have two people.

Except those two people were in an almost exact situation as he, minus the whole vampire thing.

Before he knew it, he had finished his coffee and it was nearly 2 o' clock. The hall workers were cleaning up, so he took that as his cue to leave.

When he was back up in the lobby on Evelyn's floor - and after double and triple checking for any sign of that elderly couple, and taking the stairs to be safe – he figured he should try to get some sleep.

He pushed together a few chairs and although he was a bit too tall for them, he made himself as comfortable as possible on his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Before he could count to ten, he was asleep.

**  
Mitchell was surrounded by familiar hospital walls with flyers and posters he had all but memorized by now. He slopped his wet mop onto the floor, his usual routine, before he heard fast pitter-patter running toward him. When he looked up, it was George, out of breath and adjusting his spectacles. He came to a dead halt in front of Mitchell, resting his hand on Mitchell's shoulder with his head bowed while he caught his breath.

Mitchell was speechless. "George?" He asked his voice barely full volume.

George composed himself. "Okay, so…I have to tell you something…you're not going to believe…maybe even not _want_ to believe…" he was rambling in his old George fashion, but Mitchell was all sorts of confused.

"Tell me what?" He inquired.

George punched Mitchell in the shoulder, though it didn't quite hurt as much as it was startling.

"_Hey!"_ Came a voice, though it wasn't George's. Mitchell looked around him, then back at George. George's lips had definitely moved, but it wasn't his voice. It was too…girly.

George started again, "I have to tell you this-"

But as George spoke, Mitchell watched as George's fist met Mitchell's shoulder again.

"Tell me what," he asked, "that you're a woman in disguise?"

"_What are you talking about_?" Spoke the unknown voice again.

**

Mitchell parted open his eyes halfway to find himself in a completely different environment – he was beneath a set of wooden chairs, and there was a pair of feet to his right at eye-level.

He shot up quickly and before he could think, he smashed his forehead against the bottom of the chair.

"_Shit_…Jesus." His eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Oh no, are you alright?" came the same voice from earlier, and then he realized: the whole George sequence had been a dream. He slowly rolled out from beneath the chairs, rubbing his throbbing head before looking up at Evelyn's bright face.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. When he finally got to his feet and his eyes adjusted to the bustling sunlight crashing through the windows, he realized many things at once: he was still in the lobby from last night, he had wound up sleeping under the chairs, and there were several pairs of eyes staring at him, including Evelyn's.

She wore a playful smile, but with a hint of distress as she watched a lump grow in size on Mitchell's head. She was dressed head-to-toe in a purple-hued pastel hospital gown and her hair was slightly messy. She was also walking with assistance from a walker

"How is your head?" She asked; he swore there was a small tone of teasing, but he couldn't be sure. In fact, he was bewildered that she was asking how _he_ was doing.

He swatted the air with his hand, scrunching his face. "Don't worry about me, how are you feeling?" He wasn't sure if Evelyn needing assistance with a walker was concerning or just precautionary.

Many people would probably question how he knew so little, but it was due to his unique 'lifestyle' and although he worked at hospitals, he was just the cleaning guy.

Evelyn shrugged, scanning their audience and speaking low so that only Mitchell could hear her. "I'm a lot better, thank you. I actually came down to see if you wanted to have breakfast in my room."

She certainly sounded chipper even after her incident, and only now had he noticed the stitched gash in her cheek. It was about five inches long. He felt a light swerve in his stomach; it was a mix of the sight of an open wound and blood rushing beneath the flesh, but also the thought of her helpless on the pavement.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that. You'll just tire yourself out." He said, but truthfully his stomach was aching with hunger.

Evelyn shook her head. "The doctor wanted me to get my blood circulating again since I'd been lying in bed for so long. That's why I need this, in case I got lightheaded again." She nodded at the walker beneath her. "Come on, I insist. Hospital food is a 2-star delicacy at best, but it's better than an empty stomach." She led the way out back into the hall and Mitchell laughed at her retort.

He side-eyed her as she walked; she was a bit slower than usual.

Once they were further down the hall away from the lobby audience, she looked up at Mitchell. "Deborah told me about my cousin who came to check on me last night." Her tone was laced with speculation and a smirk played on her lips.

Mitchell scratched the back of his with an open-mouthed smile. "Aah, yeah. They said I would have had to take off unless I was family." He watched as her smile grew into a toothy grin.

Evelyn looked down at her feet, and Mitchell could see her cheeks were turning a pale shade of rosy pink.

"It was very sweet of you to come, let alone stay," She kept her eyes on the floor, her cheeks a slightly deeper rouge. "Thank you." She finally met his eyes, and he smiled so hard that his eyes crinkled.

Before Mitchell could speak, they came to a halt just outside her room door. Mitchell gestured with his hand for her to go first.

Deborah, the nurse from last night, was writing something on the dry-erase board on the wall before she turned to see the pair walking in. She gave Mitchell a knowing look, though Mitchell wasn't sure what exactly it meant, so he just propped himself against the wall near the window while Evelyn slid into her bed.

"Food will be up in just a minute, dear. Do you want me to ring for a little extra for your _friend_?" Deborah had a crooked smile planted on her face and Evelyn giggled, leading Mitchell to think he was somehow involved in this inside joke. For a second he thought he might be in trouble and when Evelyn caught sight of his expression, she started full on laughing.

"Yes, please," was all Evelyn could choke out before catching her breath. Deborah winked at Mitchell before leaving the room.

Mitchell's jaw dropped as he slowly looked over at Evelyn who was dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. "You completely blew my cover! _And_ you're proud of yourself!" He guffawed in a mockingly appalled tone.

"You should have seen your face, it was priceless. It was like you'd seen a ghost." She leaned over the side of her and slid a chair over closer to where the end table was. She pointed at it.

"Sit, please."

"Yes ma'am." He plopped himself down and now that he was less distracted, his fingers found the lump ever growing on his forehead. He made an involuntary hissing sound which caught Evelyn's attention.

"That doesn't look too good; it's the size of a grape." She looked around the room until her eyes landed on a cup of ice. "I have an idea."

She fumbled through the end table's drawers until she found a small plastic baggy, dumping the ice in it before handing it to Mitchell.

"Put that on it, at least until you get home."

Mitchell gratefully put the bag to his head, looking up at her. "You're an angel."

Again, her cheeks flushed, but not much before a young man rolled in a tray with two large containers. One he handed to Mitchell, and the other he set on an adjustable tray connected to Evelyn's bed.

They both thanked him and when he left, they stared down at their respective Styrofoam boxes.

"Are you ready for this?" Evelyn broke the silence, her eyes not leaving the Styrofoam box.

"I'm not too sure…two-star delicacy, huh?" His mouth formed a sideways smirk, his eyebrows raised in concern.

Almost like clockwork, a doctor walked in just as their finished their meals (the luxury of paper-thin pancakes and barely-warm sausages, with a side of lukewarm orange juice).

The doctor flashed them both a kind smile. He was a relatively thin man with wispy brown hair and thicker black spectacles. When he noticed Mitchell as a new guest, he leaned forward and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm doctor McNally."

Mitchell stood to his feet and shook his hand, "I'm John Mitchell, nice to meet you as well."

When Mitchell sat back down, the doctor was visibly hesitating. He looked between Evelyn and Mitchell. Mitchell briefly glanced at Evelyn, who didn't take her eyes off the doctor.

"I just want to say," Dr. McNally began whilst looking at Evelyn, "that I have your results back from your x-rays, the ones you had taken while you were in Adare. Your doctors there sent the files. Before I begin, it is custom to ask Ms. O'Gorman if she wishes her guest to be present while we discuss her results."

As much as Mitchell wanted to stay, he knew he wasn't entirely 'authorized' to considering he had only recently met Evelyn.

"I can go, it's not a bother-" He began, but Evelyn shook her head and she looked almost frantic when she saw him get up.

"No, please stay! I mean if you wouldn't mind." She sat back into her pillow and looked up at the doctor as Mitchell slowly sat back down. "He's my friend, Dr. McNally. He slept on wooden chairs just to be able to be sure I was in good health despite the circumstances. It's more than anyone I knew for my whole life would have done for me."

Mitchell hadn't quite expected the conversation to go this way, and although he was rather flattered, he didn't feel he deserved such praise. He just wanted to help and to get on with his life and meeting her happened at just the right moment.

As Dr. McNally agreed to this and was organizing his papers, Evelyn caught Mitchell's eye and gave a smile worth a thousand words, but they wouldn't need to be said as he understood it as 'I mean it'. This time he was the one feeling his cheeks tingle, and that was a rarity for him.

Dr. McNally cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. "I'm afraid it is not entirely…wonderful news."

Simultaneously, their stomachs dropped.

He continued on. "A mass was located on your spine. Because this is a new diagnosis for you, further testing had to be considered before an official diagnosis was delivered."

Mitchell was as still as stone, but his eyes were darting back and forth between Evelyn and the doctor. He watched as Evelyn's brows formed a heartbreaking expression of sorrow, and tears began streaming from her eyes with every bit of news. He could tell the doctor was trying to allow her to take it one piece at a time, but that it was urgent she knew. Mitchell didn't know much about the specifics of cancer, but he did know early detection was absolutely imperative when it came to treatments and mortality.

Dr. McNally continued on, his voice a bit softer still as he leafed through each document in his arms. "The official diagnosis is that of Ewing sarcoma. I was notified that you'd been aware it was a form of bone cancer at your first exam in Ireland. When you were admitted yesterday afternoon and after measuring how low your blood cell count was paired with blood loss from your fall, we contacted your previous doctor and they had just received your results."

By now, Evelyn was hiding half of her face behind her upright knees, her arms wrapped around her small legs. Her eyes were pinched half shut, a steady flow of wetness covering her speckled cheeks.

Mitchell felt his heart aching for her. He wished there was _something_ he could do, but he knew nothing he could say or do could take back the doctor's words or Evelyn's unfortunate circumstances.

But she needed someone, and he had already volunteered himself mentally that he would watch over her…if not now more than ever. He made his way to the edge of her bed and gently took her hand in his, squeezing it gingerly. As much as this pained him to hear, he denied himself to express any negative emotion for the sake of keeping Evelyn optimistic.

Though in reality, he hadn't a clue where this disease could take her. He just knew it was serious and something needed to be done about it.

Seeing that she could barely breathe properly let alone speak, and with the doctor patiently allowing her time to digest this, he spoke up. "What can we do to be rid of it?"

Dr. McNally cleared his throat once more, this time positioning himself beside Evelyn as her small frame trembled. "There is hope, Evelyn. This is not anywhere near the end of your journey. We'd like to perform more tests and also perform a biopsy on the mass. This way, we can determine at what stage the cancer is at and we will take a CT scan to see if it has spread at all."

Certain words of the doctor's speech made Evelyn flinch more than others. She simply nodded her head. Mitchell was staring blankly at the bed.

"We'd like to do both of these things this evening while you are here. We should have the results by morning time tomorrow, and we would like to keep you here overnight tonight so we can supervise your blood levels. But if you remain stable by tomorrow, there would be no need to keep you here a day longer."

Dr. McNally smiled and arranged his papers in a neat order before he headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder before exiting. "We will arrange a time for your testing tonight and notify you when we have a time slot."

"Thank you, doctor." Mitchell muttered, still in utter disbelief. Evelyn had barely just found out she had cancer not long before Mitchell did, so it was equally traumatizing in that sense.

He finally took a good look at her and nothing but pure agony covered her face. Afternoon sun was peeking in through the window drapes. He went over and raised them, allowing the light to pour into the room.

Mitchell walked over and this time, he crawled into her bed beside her and gently pressed her head to his chest. Nothing he could say could reverse any damage done. He draped an arm around her petite shoulders. She allowed herself to drown in his shirt, failing to unscramble Dr. McNally's words. She wasn't shaking any longer, nor crying. She didn't even have the energy to think properly at this point.

But for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.


	4. The Old & The New

Ch. 4 – The Old & The New

It was Tuesday in the late evening, three days after Evelyn's diagnosis.

Evelyn's results confirmed that she had cancer – the doctors were certain it was anyhow, but with the biopsy of the mass on her spine, it was official. It was determined that her cancer was at stage three, but that it hadn't spread to other parts of her body so far. Starting Friday, she would begin her first round of chemotherapy treatment.

The doctors hypothesized that after three months of this, they would be ready to perform surgery to remove the tumor. As strongly as Evelyn was taking this, Mitchell was sure that the way she was thinking emotionally was a stark contrast.

Mitchell was spread out on his couch, newspaper in hand. He was staring at the inked letters on the page but nothing was registering in his head. All he could think about was how his blood thirst was strengthening by the day. It worsened each moment he spent with Evelyn.

The past weekend when she had fallen asleep next to him, the scent of her blood was stronger than he'd remembered. When he first met her, it was barely present. He realized this was likely due to her sickness. But now that she was getting blood transfusions, it was enticing his internal monster to come out and play again.

Every day was a struggle, but now he was being challenged.

He couldn't risk this with her…he wouldn't. This was the first time in a decent while that he felt an actual _desire_ and a _need_ for blood.

The last time he felt this way, he had found a new source of 'comfort' in drug use. It was exceptionally rare for creatures of his kind, or any other supernatural being, to indulge in what was typically considered a normal human's behavior. Blood was the vampire's dependence, but Mitchell found control in using heroin because it grounded him; made him placid versus the crazed monstrous demon he became when he was blood thirsty.

The problem was, just when he had cut himself off cold-turkey from the substance, he had been feeling sparks of withdrawal. This was quite a long time ago now, but not altogether omitted as an option.

Mitchell sighed deeply. He could still just barely smell her blood as if a thin layer had stuck to his nostrils. He subconsciously rubbed his nose with his finger as if it would erase any signs of the smell.

This was going to be much more of a problem than he anticipated.

Evelyn was homebound again, but since she had been, he had somewhat cut off communication with her. Maybe not entirely, but he felt like he was becoming more of a danger and a threat than a helping hand.

He slammed the newspaper down on the couch and brought his legs down, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands knotted in his hair. He was flustered.

He could call Annie, but she would likely book the next flight home if he told her about his subconscious intentions.

This house was much lonelier than he had expected it to be, especially in troubling times like this. There was no one else to talk to about this special situation.

Groaning, he grabbed his jacket from the coffee table and walked out the door. He inhaled the crisp autumn air and tilted his head up to look at the purple-tinted sunset; maybe he just needed a walk.

He had no specific destination in mind, but after a good amount of time he wound up walking the length of a shady alleyway.

"'Ey, Lewis!" shouted a voice somewhere behind him. When he looked around in front of him, he didn't see anyone else so he peeked over his shoulder.

A scrawny man in his late twenties was running up to him with a toothy grin…well, with as many teeth as he had anyway. He had a round face and days of stubble littering his jaw. His hair was an ashy blond color and was sticking up in every which direction.

"Lewis!"

Then Mitchell realized exactly who this was, and why he kept being referred to as 'Lewis'. This was his incognito name he used back when he had experimented with heroin. It was too late to hide as the rail thin man caught up to him.

"Hey, Billy." Mitchell muttered unenthusiastically as he spun on his heel to face him completely now.

Billy tried catching his breath, but he was gleaming at Mitchell as if he were some celebrity wandering the back alley in Kent.

"H-hey man…I haven't seen you…for a while, man. Where've you been?" He asked between breaths.

Mitchell groaned internally and looked up at the grey clouded sky. "I told you, Billy. I'm clean now." If only Billy had realized how many ways that could be interpreted coming from a vampire.

Billy shook his head and waved his hand in front of his face as if Mitchell was being modest about something. "Sure, sure, man. But a deal's a deal." He began rummaging in his ragged coat pocket.

Mitchell's heart began to race when he could hear the cracking sounds of a plastic baggie. He shook his head frantically. "No, no! Remember I said I don't want any favors in return. Just…just take it as a…gesture of gratitude or something."

Billy was paying no attention. He quickly looked around them before extracting a small baggie full of a snow white powder and quickly shoved it in Mitchell's arms.

"Don't tell no one! It's just between us, huh?!" Billy had a slight whistle when he pronounced his S's and the quirky grin on his face was growing from ear to ear. It made Mitchell uncomfortable as he stared down at the substance in his hand.

Mitchell looked up at Billy and shook his head, holding his hand out toward Billy with the bag. "I can't, Billy. I'm tempted…but I can't."

But Billy hurriedly shoved Mitchell's hand away, this time frowning and his smile disappeared. "Don't be so careless! Anybody could see us. I'm not riskin' more copper time, you hear me? You already got me outta that once!" He squawked so loud it made Mitchell jump.

There were voices of pedestrians nearby, and Billy leaned in as close to Mitchell's face as he could without touching him. "Remember, a deal's a deal," and he bolted off before a group of three young women turned the corner.

Mitchell frantically stuffed the bag into his coat pocket; Billy disappeared before he could even call his name.

The young women were laughing hysterically at something they were gossiping about. Mitchell hung his head low, stuffed his hands in his pocket, and walked in their direction to go home. His hand was white-knuckling the bag so hard, as if these women would inspect him.

To his surprise, they stopped a few feet ahead and their voices dropped to whispers, but he could still hear what they were saying. They were cooing at how attractive they thought he was, wondering what he'd look like without 'all those layers on'.

He could smell their blood as if it were painted on his face. When one of them suggested trying to get his attention, a blonde woman stopped in his path and his shoulder bumped into her roughly as he just wanted to get home.

The woman scuffed at him, "_Asshole_! You saw me standing there!" She shouted in his ear and pounded an angry fist into his back.

Without warning from even within himself, his head snapped to his left and his eyes were as black as night, his brows knitted together in anger. His blood was boiling. The blonde woman froze on the spot while her two friends screamed.

Mitchell roughly placed his hand over the blonde woman's mouth and shoved her backwards against the back of a building. He shot the other two women a look of complete and utter hatred, which caused them to flee and abandon their friend.

Mitchell turned his black eyes back to the woman in front of him. His other arm was horizontal to both her shoulders, pinning them to the building as well.

"You haven't the _slightest clue_ who I am." He hissed. He could feel his fangs poking his lip just slightly when he spoke. The woman was trembling and tears were pouring from her circular grey eyes.

Mitchell's chest rose and fell heavily; he could hear the pulse throbbing in her neck with each passing second, blood pumping furiously, her body preparing for escape. He leaned in to the crook of her neck, his panting breath deflecting off her clammy skin.

She began to struggle and whine under his grip, making the encounter all the more enticing.

He removed his arm that was holding her shoulders back and instead pressed his body against hers to trap her. As he bared his fangs and began to open his mouth, there was hardly any hesitation before his teeth cut through her skin like hot butter.

But the sound in return was not that of agony…but of a gasp of pleasure. Mitchell frowned deeply, whipping his head up to see the woman's grey eyes replaced by black ones.

Mitchell's face screwed up in disgust and his eyes returned to normal. He took a few paces back, but the woman was grinning and followed him. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and smashed her mouth against his.

"Come on, you started it." She breathed. He could feel a rush deep within his bones that he had not felt for ages, but something about this woman now completely turned him off. He felt her hand slip into his pants pocket.

He caught sight of her face which was mere inches from his. His eyes were shadowed with confusion and anger and his lips were lightly stained with red. Her eyes were grey again; her neck had two parallel red lines running down to her clavicle where he left his mark.

She didn't break her gaze as she swiped her neck wither her finger and gingerly wiped it on her tongue. Mitchell watched, puzzled, before once again she met his lips with hers. This time, she slid her blood-stained tongue onto his, and the taste of its sweetness was nearly enough to change again. His eyes closed and they rolled in his head, but he felt her pull away as soon as she'd noticed.

She leaned in to his ear and whispered, "too late." He felt her hand pull out of his pocket as she strutted down the alley like nothing had happened.

He released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding as he crouched forward. It was nearly completely dark now; the skies were a deep navy blue. He looked to his left and as he watched the blonde woman walk away in the distance, her silhouette was matched with a second one. This was clearly a man's figure. He half expected them to turn around for round two, but they continued until they were out of Mitchell's sight.

Mitchell slid down the stony wall he was up against, taking deep breaths to regain his composure.

He knew this would happen. As good of an accomplishment he made over the last several months, he knew it would never last. It never did.

Tilting his head back against the stone wall, he closed his eyes and came to realization of something: at first, he had thought the woman stole the drugs, but she hadn't gone in his coat pocket.

Frowning, he lazily dug through his pants pocket until his hand landed on something cold and metal. He frowned, his eyes still closed. He pulled out the stringy object and opened his eyes.

Holding it upward where his eyes could see, his mouth dropped open, his chest began to heave, and for the first time since he could remember, tears stung his eyes. Against the moonlight above him, he held George's Star of David necklace in his quivering hand.

Teeth locking together, he rolled forward and curled up with his forehead against the pavement and he allowed himself to let go and cry. George's necklace was gripped in his fist by his head, and he choked out an echoing "NO!". His eyes were clenched tightly, and somewhere down the alley way in the distance, he could hear laughter.

They were laughing and basking in his misery, the two vampires he had thought were long gone. But he didn't care right now.

After a while, he got to his feet. He wiped any evidence of blood away from his mouth halfheartedly and his face shone after being layered with tears.

He felt complete anger now, a new sense of raw rage. He walked zombie-like back home, his hands in his coat pockets. One grasped George's necklace, and the other the drug.

Once inside his house, he bolted his door before walking straight to the bathroom. He shredded his soiled clothing that reeked of the vampire woman and stepped into the shower, scrubbing down his body as thoroughly as he could.

"_Too late…_" played her voice in his head.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he removed the objects from his coat pocket before bunching the dirty clothes together and tossed them onto the clothes-ridden floor in his bedroom upstairs.

"Jesus, Mitchell, what has happened to you…" he muttered aloud to himself.

He ran a hand through his wet mane and looked into his other hand where the heroin and George's necklace both lay.

He stared long and hard in contemplation at the white powder…tempted…so tempted.

Instead, he placed it inside his bedside table drawer. He studied George's necklace up close this time now that he had proper light. He could see there were still tiny specs of blood embedded in the grooves of the chain. He placed it on his dresser for the moment as he heard a knock at the front door.

He made his way downstairs, one hand gripping the back of his towel to avoid it slipping on front of a stranger, and the other opening the door to find…not a stranger, but Evelyn.

Already, the apples of her cheeks were quickly turning a shade of tomato red, but rather than run away as Mitchell half expected, she busted out laughing.

"I'm s-hhhorry…but after…not seeing you for a few days, this is so awkward, I don't know where to look, should I go home?" she rambled between fits of laughter. She was trying to keep her eyes on Mitchell's face only and not on the fact that he was half naked and dangerously close to all-the-way naked. It was near impossible, because he was undeniably a beautiful man. But this was still an unexpected encounter.

Mitchell laughed, his brows raised slightly. "If you come in I promise I will put on some clothes." He smirked; her hands were covering her burning cheeks as she stepped through the threshold under Mitchell's arm.

"Be right back, oh, and feel free to have a look around." He called as he jumped up the stairs. He dropped his towel and threw on a charcoal grey tanktop, underwear and jeans before meeting Evelyn back in the front room.

She was having a look at all the collectibles and furniture. "You have an eclectic taste. I never would have expected it." She threw a quick friendly smile his way before tilting her head to read the artist labels on the musical records.

Mitchell smiled in return, plopping himself down on the couch. "A lot of this is Annie's doing, at least the décor and design. Nearly everything else is George, but we all shared out tastes in music. I'll let Annie know you said that, you have no idea how proud she was when she was finished with the place." His eyes squinted some as he smiled thinking about those days.

Evelyn looked over at him. She wasn't sure why, but through his crinkle-eyes smile she saw a broken man. A lot of the time when he spoke of his past, it was with remorse or grief…something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But it was there.

"Have you talked to Annie since she left?" She pondered, slowly walking around to observe the knick knacks. The room was fairly spacious, but looked huge when only one person lived here.

Mitchell nodded, looking down at his hands. "Just once, I'm surprised she hasn't called since actually. I suppose she's up to her neck with planning her wedding. I can't imagine what she has in store for Cedric." He gave a small belly laugh as he felt the couch beside him sink a little as Evelyn sat. There was a slight whiff of air and he could smell her again.

After very recent events in the alley, he was still in a semi-fragile state as far as blood went. But he would not allow himself into that state of mind while he had company.

"Well next time you talk to her, you really do have to tell her she did a great job with this place. At least you have something to remember her by while she's away."

Mitchell chuckled, "I promise. Just don't be surprised if she shows up here intending to revamp your place also."

Evelyn grinned, looking to her left seemingly in thought.

For a moment, Mitchell allowed himself a proper look at her. She had a keen eye for clothing. He considered it a bit alternative and a feminine twist on what he would wear. She had a tiny frame and he could tell she was one of those lucky few to be born that way. Her face was also small, heart-shaped, and he had just noticed the stitches from her wound had been removed and it was halfway healed.

When she turned her head he pretended to be looking at something just beyond her.

"Mitchell…" She spoke softly; it was nearly a whisper.

His eyebrows raised in attentiveness. "Yes?"

She hesitated just for a second. "I have a favor to ask of you. And you can say no, really, I just-"

"Evelyn." Mitchell gently interrupted her. This seemed to catch her by surprise as she hastily swung her face around. Her emerald eyes caught his hazel ones, "Whatever it is…I'll do it."

Evelyn wasn't sure what to say. Who was this man that wanted to be a part of her life so bad? She wasn't complaining, just that the odds were so slim that all this change was occurring in her life with no one to share it with one moment, and then she meets someone at the most impeccable timing.

"Will you go to my first treatment with me?" She was playing with her fingers now.

Mitchell gave her a reaction that read 'you're crazy for having to ask'. "Of course I will, yeah. We'll try to make it fun."

Evelyn grinned from ear-to-ear.

After a brief minute of silence, Mitchell's face relaxed and he watched her fiddle with her hands. "Are you scared?"

She had a feeling he wasn't just referring to her upcoming treatments. She stared off into the room at nothing in particular and nodded. "I am. I'm trying to be optimistic, and I think I will be after a few treatments. But it's hard to hear you're at stage three already when it's only just been found. When I was at home, when I was diagnosed originally…they told me we'd caught it early."

Mitchell just listened. He was in another situation where he felt nothing he could say or do could make it go away.

"Dr. McNally called me yesterday. After they looked more into it, they gave me a survival rate of seventy percent." She said. Mitchell was unsure if she was happy about this or not.

He thought about it for a moment. "That's good though. I mean think about it, it's quite a ways over half and surely it could have been caught even later. Your odds could be a lot lower."

Evelyn nodded in agreement, she couldn't rebut that. "But I should warn you…I might respond negatively to the chemo, at least on the first few tries. A lot of people do. And I'll lose my hair. So much for growing it out, huh?" She asked rhetorically as she grasped pieces of her hair between her fingers.

Mitchell studied her behavior and then smirked a crooked smirk. "I'll be sure to bring a barf bucket with us, but you're responsible for cleaning it." He teased.

Evelyn playfully glared at him and gently whacked him on the chest. "And _I'll_ be sure not to aim for the bucket!" She retorted sarcastically, smiling.

"Ooo, ouch. Someone's got such a _small _punch with those big words!" He jested and curled in a fetal position in the corner of the couch, anticipating a complete smackdown now. He was grinning widely, side-eyeing her reaction.

She grabbed a pillow from the couch and gingerly, though also using a bit of force, began whacking him with it as he covered his head with his arms.

"You're a sly bastard, aren't ya!" She exclaimed through her laughter.

But she didn't know who she was messing with; due to his vampiric abilities, he was stronger than the average man his age. At least, what would be his human age.

He grabbed the pillow as she was about to whack him and gingerly shoved her back down onto the couch with it. Quickly, he shuffled over and sat on the pillow which was lying on her.

"_Oh, God_" She croaked, making exaggerated dying animal sounds. "What do you weigh, three hundred pounds?! I'm gonna become one with this couch any second now!"

Mitchell threw his head back in laughter, crossing his arms. "And you think that will give you immunity?!"

"Okay, you win…this round. Kindly remove your arse." She wheezed as Mitchell stood and gave her a hand to help her up.

Once she was stable, she looked at her watch. "I should probably get going, it's nearly midnight."

"Yeah, it's good to know when to admit defeat…" He quipped with a mockingly serious face, his brows furrowed in fake worry.

Evelyn placed her hands on both his shoulders and began pushing him backwards. When she successfully reached the door, she gave his hair a tug. "Good_night_!"

And she was gone. Mitchell still had a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He bolted his door, and peered through the window as Evelyn walked out of sight back home. He flicked off all the lights before hopping his way upstairs and into his oversized bed.

This had been a much improved conclusion to his night, but he was aware that earlier events from the evening still posed to be a future problem. For now, he would sleep knowing he had a life again.


	5. A Day of Firsts

Ch. 5 – A Day of Firsts

Mitchell was hysterical, rabid, and most of all, thirsty. He was sprinting through his house, looking for a source. After what felt like hours of ravaging through every room and destroying furniture and valuables, he came to a dead halt. His source…was twelve houses down.

He ripped open his door, eyes as black as night and fangs protruding. He nearly ran to his destination of 301 Boyd Street. His clothed fist pounded at the door; he could barely stand still. When a familiar face opened the door, a grin plastered on her face, he didn't wait even a second for a greeting before his hands dug into her shoulders.

By now, any sound was mum and he couldn't hear Evelyn's cries of struggle. Forcefully, he pushed her forward as her small hands grasped at his arms. There was a complete expression of panic written on her face; it made him anxious for a drink.

She was screaming now, but he couldn't hear anything besides her pulse as if it were trying to kick through her flesh.

"_Too late._"

He shoved her down in a corner, bared his fangs, and lowered his face until he-  
**

Mitchell threw open his eyelids, his hazel eyes nearly bursting from his school as he frantically observed his surroundings. Early morning sunlight was bursting through his bedroom window. Everything was intact. He was in his own house.

Beads of sweat began flowing like rivers down his face, his chest heaving heavily up and down and his muscles ached with strain. Realizing it was only a nightmare, he slowly began to relax his muscles and regain his normal heart rate again. He could feel that he had sweated through his clothes.

Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down in his face in both a mix of relief and utter shame.

He groggily swung his feet over his bed, his face scrunched as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

It was Friday, the big day. It was also 6:30 A.M. which made Mitchell cringe. Over the past few days, he and Evelyn had been relatively attached at the hip with spending time together. He decided that if he wanted to reduce his urges to drink, avoiding her altogether would actually be less beneficial than being around her.

His nightmare, however, was telling him otherwise.

The longer he put her off, the worse his appetite became because it was out of his reach. Plus, Evelyn was fun. He liked her.

He _really_ liked her.

Although it had been only a few weeks since they met, they had spent nearly every hour with each other minus a small dry patch and when they slept in their respective homes.

But the more he got to know her and watch her, the more she grew on him. She wasn't just a cancer victim wanting to be coddled or pitied. At first she portrayed herself as quite shy, which she still was at times. But she was becoming much more open and outgoing with him while they were together. She was charismatic, genuinely sweet, and could be a real smartass at times.

This was quite appealing to him, however. She made him soft; he'd never felt so vulnerable or open to such thoughts before. If Annie were here, she would give him the hardest time about how she knew deep down beneath his 'cool, though guy' shell, there was an affectionate human being.

Also, as much as he tried avoiding thinking it, Evelyn was a beautiful, alluring woman on the outside as well. He had always lusted after women his entire life, but those affairs usually ended in bloodshed – whether it be a dead body or a sexually rampant vampire woman by the end.

He put those thoughts aside now, partially because he was certain she felt this relationship could only be platonic, and also because he needed to get ready for the day's events.

Evelyn's treatment was in two hours and was taking place at a cancer center more into the city and it would be about an hour-long train ride. He wasn't entirely positive what would come of it, and frankly neither did Evelyn. He packed extra clothes and a credit card just in case things didn't work as planned and they had to stay in the city. He was more afraid of Evelyn being too sick to travel home.

Stripping off his close, he took a quick cold shower to wash off the sweaty evidence of his nightmare. Ever since his run-in with the strange vampire woman, her words echoed in his mind but especially during his sleep. "_Too late_."

What did it mean? Or did it mean anything? Maybe he was only being paranoid, but either way, he wasn't taking any chances.

He walked over to the table beside his bed and fingered open the drawer, pulling out the small bag of powder. He reached in further with his other hand, and grasped an unused syringe. He stared at them for what seemed like eternity, a bit unsure if this was the right thing to do. If Evelyn caught him with either of these things, she would certainly avoid him like the plague.

He combed his fingers through his thick mess of wet curls and put on a black tank top, black jacket, and black skinny jeans, along with a pair of deep green fingerless gloves. He called a cab company to have them be there in a half hour for drop-off at the train station.

There was a soft knock at his door. He quickly dispensed of the objects in his hands into his jacket pocket before descending the stairs two at a time and opened the door to meet Evelyn. She had a small travel bag full of things; he assumed she was taking precautions as well.

"'Morning!" She chirped and stepped inside.

"They're dreadful." He croaked. "Coffee?" He asked as he already began brewing a pot.

"Oh, _please_." She slumped her shoulders in an exaggerated manner as if she were melting.

"Are you ready for today?" He asked in all seriousness as he poured two mugs to the brim with coffee, handing one to Evelyn.

She shrugged, "you know what they say…'as ready as I'll ever be' I suppose. Take one last good look at me because in a week I'm going to look like a naked mole rate."

Mitchell gave her 'the look', the one he would now give her each time she poked fun at herself for things out of her control. He playfully nudged her with his elbow in the same moment.

"As long as your smart-arsery stays intact, it won't matter." He smiled, downing his piping hot coffee.

He heard a car pull up. "That would be ours. Ready?"

She took her last mouthful of coffee before she nodded. She led the way as Mitchell hiked his bag over his shoulder and locked everything up behind him. Once they were buckled in and Mitchell gave the driver their destination, they were off.

It wasn't long into the ride when Evelyn had fallen asleep and her head lolled onto Mitchell's shoulder. He snuck a peek at her. Her freckled cheeks, her lips, her fringe that barely swept her cheekbones and would be gone soon. The smell of her blood pumping calmly. In just over an hour her life would be functioning completely differently.

Feeling a waft of sleepiness overcome him, he gently rested his head atop hers and allowed himself a short rest until they arrived.

There was a small jolt of the car that indicated they'd stopped. Mitchell squinted open his eyes and nudged Evelyn. He pulled cash out of his pocket for the driver, grabbed his bag and they exited.

In front of them stood an immaculate architecture of blue and white with endless windows. They both stood there for a moment to properly wake up.

Evelyn sighed, slowly exhaling through her mouth. "Here goes…" and Mitchell followed behind her through the revolving doors. The interior was just as jaw-dropping; this clearly was a new building.

After Evelyn signed them in and she was given direction, they were on the next elevator up to the tenth floor. Evelyn's heart was thumping ever faster, and being in the enclosed structure was almost becoming nauseating for Mitchell. It was as if her blood was beginning to seep through her pores and straight up his nostrils.

Thankfully, the elevator let up and they exited. Evelyn led the way, following the signs on the wall. This hospital was quite different from the ones back at home; the walls were made of marble and the hallways were significantly wider. It felt much less stagnant and intimidating here.

They passed through a set of double-doors before they were greeted by a blue-carpeted room. There was an entire wall dedicated to windows and it was rounded rather than squared, similar to a bay window but oversized. Around those windows sat several people, and they quickly figured out this was the waiting room.

Evelyn was eyeing the door just beyond them. "I think that's where I need to go." Her breathing was beginning to pick up and her hands became clammy. She looked up at Mitchell as if he held all the answers.

"I'll be right here the whole time. Look, they have coffee and the telly, and…a lot of depressed family members to bond with." He offered her a purposely over-exaggerated smile.

She didn't seem convinced, either that or she was having some serious doubts as she looked back at the doors.

"Come on," Mitchell made a gesture of his head toward the door. "I'll walk you there. But I doubt they will let me in there." He led the way and when they reached the doors, they faced one another. Evelyn's eyes were already starting to fill.

Mitchell hiked his backpack further up his shoulder, pried her bag from her white-knuckled hand, and shook his head at her, using both of his thumbs to gently wipe at her eyes. "We can't have _that_! You're less than a yard away from making the smartest decision of your life."

"I know," she managed to say without losing her voice. "I don't know why I'm so scared. Before we got on the elevator I was rearing to go. Now that we're here I almost don't want to. What if it doesn't work? What if it spread and what-"

"Evelyn." Mitchell interjected sternly. "After you walk through these doors, there are no more 'what ifs'. But if you don't go through with this now, then…" He shook his head, looking for the right words. "Then they will become reality." He decided to go for the blunt route, and it seemed to work.

Before he could allow her a chance to doubt again, he reached above her head and propped open the door and his other hand rested on her shoulder, lightly guiding her forward into the room. Once she was across the threshold, she looked back at him one more as if she were entering death's doorway.

He gave her an encouraging smile. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." He shut the door but watched through the circular window as she smiled in return and waved before a doctor came and led her further into the room.

Mitchell sighed and turned around, eyeing an empty table in the corner which he claimed for himself. The stench of blood here was nearly intolerable. His hand found the lump in his coat pocket, his leg fidgeting nervously. The temptation was overbearing, and somebody was watching his odd behavior from across the room. He took his hand back and knitted it with his other one.

It was too risky right now, here.

After an immeasurable amount of hours of pacing, several trips to the coffee carafe (which he was certain he finished all by himself), and bathroom breaks, the double doors which led to the treatment area opened.

A nurse was cautiously walking beside and behind Evelyn, whose eyes looked slightly weary and she had a slow gait about her. Mitchell stood from his seat and walked on over to them.

The nurse was a younger woman with plaited jet black hair and a kind expression. Her eyes found Mitchell's, whose were scanning Evelyn as if inspecting any physical damage.

"Ms. O'Gorman did fantastically." The nurse chirped happily, though she kept her voice low. A smile tugged at Mitchell's eyes as Evelyn came to a halt and her tired eyes found Mitchell.

"Put her there," Evelyn said with traces of exhaustion in her voice, raising a fist. Mitchell laughed an open-mouthed laugh and gently bumped his fist against hers.

The nurse kept a hand on Evelyn's upper back as if she expected her to fall backwards at any moment. "Are you John Mitchell? Evelyn said she had somebody with her in case she needed a drive home. Treatments can make a patient fatigued and often times the first few will create some nausea. Now, we've given her some medication that she can take if she starts to feel ill." She turned her attention to Evelyn. "If you still feel sick after the medication or you feel abnormally tired within the next few days, doctor will want a follow-up to make sure there's not a negative reaction to the chemo drugs."

Evelyn nodded as she slowly turned her body. "Thank you, Lisa. I think I'm just tired right now." With that, the nurse left.

Mitchell's smile grew wider after the nurse left and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

"Told you." He mumbled teasingly before he went and grabbed their bags and walked with her out of the building. She wasn't in horrible shape, but he kept a keen eye on her as her reactions to things were delayed. At times, she would trip over her own feet.

When they stepped outside and the cool breeze hit their faces, Mitchell realized they didn't exactly have a plan. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm _starved_. But to be honest, I've never really been here…but I'm sure there's a pub somewhere nearby." She placed her hands on her achingly hungry stomach.

"Let's have a look." Mitchell said, leading them down a path where it was a bit more populated. It was just past midday now. After a short five-minute walk, they stopped in front of a rustic building. The exterior was designed to look like a cabin.

When they walked in, they were welcomed by an unusually warm atmosphere. They got a booth near the window and each ordered their food. Mitchell knitted his hands together and rested his chin on them, staring at Evelyn.

Something was happening to him internally. He could not only feel it, but he couldn't force his eyes away from Evelyn's neck where a portion of her skin was pulsating. The warmth of the diner was making the smell so much more appetizing. Warm, red liquid, all within a foot of his reach…

He hadn't realized she was talking to him until she waved a hand in front of his eyes.

He raised his eyebrows and dragged his eyes over to look at her.

"What's the matter? You seem more dazed than I do." She pointed out, folding her hands in her lap.

He smiled half-heartedly and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not really a morning person, plus I haven't really had a meal today, so…" He trailed off. "I'm going to use the toilet." He said abruptly, speed-walking to the men's room. Evelyn looked after him, concerned.

Mitchell thanked whoever was listening when he realized it was a single toilet and not several. He hastily locked the door behind him, leaning against it as he tried catching his breath.

"_Idiot_." He breathed to himself. "You _fucking_ idiot." He grabbed a chunk of hair at the crown of his head, his brows furrowed in anger. There was really only one thing he could do that could help, other than abandoning Evelyn here by herself.

His hand reached into his pocket and he shakily pulled out the drug and the needle. He walked over to the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. His face lost any color it had left in it, and his lids were heavy. His hands were jittering and his body was beginning to sweat.

_Don't do this again_, he thought. _You've controlled it before and you can do it again_.

He crumbled to the door and his arms wrapped around his neck, trembling. The thirst for blood and the demand to cease it were tugging at him in different directions.

_What would Annie think? And George…Eve, if she were here. And Evelyn…she's waiting for you. She needs you._ A voice in his head whispered, though it sounded vaguely like Annie's.

Mitchell stuffed his fist in his mouth; he wanted to let it all out but everyone would surely hear him, see what was going on and then call the authorities on him. His face was damp now.

Before he could put anymore thought into it, he stood up, threw the needle to the floor and put all his weight into smashing it into a thousand little pieces. He then tossed the heroin and broken needle pieces into the toilet and flushed immediately. He exhaled; he wasn't entirely sure if he felt better or the same.

He quickly splashed his face with cool water before giving himself another minute to appear normal. Once his heart rate decreased, he coolly stepped back out into the crowd. He wasn't sure how long he had been preoccupied in there, but by the look on Evelyn's face and the fact that their food was already on the table, it was long enough.

"What happened? You were acting quite…abnormal, even for you." Evelyn quipped, sticking a spoon in her soup whilst eyeing his appearance.

Mitchell slid into the booth, the smell of his extra-rare steak teasing his taste buds. He looked up at Evelyn with a genuine apologetic expression. She truly had no idea what it was like.

"I got the _worst_ stomach ache. I can describe it in detail if you'd like?" He bantered, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. She stopped mid-sip and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not if you don't want to suffer third-degree burns." She retorted playfully.

Mitchell smirked and continued to cut open his steak. It was pure, blood red…just how he liked him. His mouth was salivating.

Evelyn eyeballed his steak as red juices flowed out from it. Her stomach turned. "That's disgusting! What are you, a-"

Mitchell stiffened.

"-an animal?" She stared with a look of distaste as she continued on with her soup.

Mitchell contemplated his answer as he stuck a huge chunk of steak between his teeth and flung his head up at Evelyn. "_Maybe_." While it was no substitute for human blood, the blood of his food was somewhat of a comfort. Why he hadn't thought of that before his bathroom break, he didn't know.

What he did know was that this problem needed to be solved, and _fast_.

"And what is _that_?" Mitchell prodded his fork in the direction of Evelyn's bowl. "It looks like a dog hurled in your bowl." He teased.

Evelyn chipped off a piece of bread from her roll and flicked it at Mitchell's forehead, doubling over in laughter at his priceless reaction. His mouth fell open, but it was a struggle to keep it widening to a smile.

"You are unbelievable. I can't actually believe you." But saying this only made her laugh harder, though now she could barely breathe. "Aw, oh no. What happened? Wait, I think I can help."

He grabbed half a handful of mashed potatoes it across Evelyn's face. This time, he was the one who could hardly contain himself.

"You bastard! Alright." She looked around and grabbed a fistful of green beans off his plate, throwing them at his face as he cowered in his seat with her arms covering his head.

By now, they had drawn the attention of the entire room with their shrieking, including the manager. The hefty man waddled over to their table, his eyebrows so knitted together they formed a unibrow.

His booming voice roared at them to get out immediately, that they were disturbing his customers and wasting their valuable food. Mitchell and Evelyn were still belly laughing, until Mitchell suddenly stopped and stood straight in front of the manager.

Mitchell's brows mocked the manager's, though he couldn't quite achieve the one eyebrow appearance. He puffed out his chest, as the manager's was. Ever so slowly, his feet were inching toward the front door. Evelyn was observing this, amused.

"We're sorry, sir. We will leave now…" His hands held behind his back, his fingers crawled backwards and he grasped the ketchup bottle, tilting it just slightly until he felt the cool condiment fill his hand. Evelyn took a step closer to the door because she that after this, they were going to need to run.

"I doubt we'll ever _catch up_." With that, Mitchell hurriedly spread his handful of ketchup all across the manager's face and almost within the same moment, ushered Evelyn out the door as he followed at her heels.

They were bolting down the sidewalk, out of breath from both laughter and at the rate they were going. They could hear the diner manager shouting for someone to sic the police on them, but his hollering was quickly fading the further they ran.

Eventually, they were a couple blocks down past the hospital as they took a sharp corner. They stopped, trying to catch their breath but losing it as they bellowed with laughter. Mitchell rested his hands on his knees and Evelyn tilted her face up toward the sky taking deep breaths.

"His…face…my God…!" Evelyn breathed, the autumn air stinging her lungs.

"He thought he was doing himself a favor…but we got a free meal out of it." He grinned widely and sat up normally again.

Evelyn stepped in front of him and poked him in the chest. "_You_, are going to get _me_ in trouble…one of these days."

Mitchell's face twisted in fake distraught. "_Me?_ Alright, Mrs. Potato head. Whatever you say. I doubt you would have gotten yourself out of there without my help." He jokingly challenged, lightly swiping at the potato remnants left on her cheek.

He caught a whiff of her adrenaline-filled blood in passing, it made him dizzy, but he shut it out. He took a hold of her hand that was poking at him, but didn't let go right away.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his face in a more serious placement now.

She froze for a moment; his hand was like ice, and he wasn't letting go. She wasn't sure what, or how, to think for a minute. "You're such a buzzkill. If I were sick, would I have been able to run that distance?" She asked, eyebrows slightly raised. She only now noticed how much taller he was than her, and that they were standing relatively close to one another.

"Like I said," Mitchell leaned in so close, their noses were nearly touching. "My help." He had a sideways smile plastered on his face as he let her hand free and walked away.

Evelyn let out a breath she had been holding, watching him strut away. She jogged to catch up with him. "What now?"

Mitchell shrugged, his head swiveling left and right to see what was around them. "I think you should pick."

"Hmmm…" She wasn't entirely positive what constituted as strictly friend activities versus beyond that. Well, besides the obvious.

The truth was she was beginning to feel immensely attached to Mitchell. She could say it wasn't because he felt bad for her, because she knew that he did even when he tried to hide it. And that's probably what made him stick around this long. But she couldn't lie that it was having a profound impact on her feelings for him. She knew that much of what he had been there for was possibly out of at least a little obligation; if she hadn't spilled the beans about not knowing or having anybody left in her life, things might be different.

But she knew that somewhere behind his stubborn, hard shell, he genuinely cared for her health…and possibly her. She would see it in his face more than anything else.

She just didn't want to step beyond either of their comfort zones until she was sure about how they both felt. Right now, that was just a level of very good friends.

"Okay, I have an idea. But you're going to probably think it's too girly. I think it's time to get in touch with your feminine side, Mitchell." She said as they stopped mid-walk to hear her idea.

Mitchell raised his eyebrows, doubting this plan of hers. It already sounded…daunting. "I think I'm afraid to ask. But I already gave the reins to you, so…"

Evelyn pointed in the direction of a rather elegant-looking hotel building just beyond where they were standing across the street. "Hotel room, British soap operas, Chinese food, and the most comfortable beds you have ever slept on. I've only been in a hotel once in my whole life. It sounds really childish, but I never went back after I nearly drowned in the pool when I was five, so…." She sighed; Mitchell was staring at her incredulously.

He hadn't quite expected it to go in this direction, and it probably wouldn't be the safest idea to be holed up in an enclosed room with her and his issues…but the look on her face was too much to deny.

When he didn't answer after a second, she continued. "If you accept, I'll buy."

"No, no, you don't have to coax me with money. But I'll do it." He promised, with a small twinge of worry pulling at his stomach.

After they had checked in, they made their way up in the elevator. Mitchell nearly had a stroke when she suggested they use it considering his previous elevator incident, but the interior of these were made of all mahogany.

They were at least twenty stories high until they reached their floor. Evelyn swiped the card key through the door and they walked in. There were massive windows that lined the entire wall and revealed endless green plains. The ground rose and fell; Mitchell hadn't noticed anything like this when they were outside.

"It's kind of like home if you forget where you really are." Evelyn said. There were two fairly large beds at one wall, and toward the door was a rather exquisite bathroom.

Mitchell was gazing out at the open land in awe. "You wouldn't think this existed with all the city traffic outside. But you're right…it is like home." He couldn't remember the last time he'd even been to his native land in Ireland, but this sure as hell made him nostalgic for it.

He could hear Evelyn on the phone already ordering their dinner. Though they had just eaten, due to circumstances completely _in_ their control, they had barely touched a quarter of their food. She was saying menu items he'd never heard before, and he really couldn't pick out which of those items he'd be eating.

He flopped backwards onto his claimed bed with his arms out and instantly his body sank into the thick foamy mattress. It was like heaven.

Evelyn clicked off the phone and looked over her shoulder at Mitchell. "Was I right or what? I don't remember a lot about hotels, but I do remember the beds." She said as she belly flopped onto her respective bed, burying her face into the mattress.

"And that you almost drowned." Mitchell retorted, turning his head to see her shaking her fist at him.

"I don't think I'd be so keen as to lay _my_ face in these sheets…you don't know what people do in them." He teased, though he was also being truthful.

Evelyn pushed herself up onto her elbows and glared at him. "Not my bed. But probably yours…it has the better view. More romantic." She nodded in mock 'approval'.

Mitchell made a face. "What exactly are we eating?"

"Chicken-fried rice and chicken with vegetables in garlic sauce. And general's chicken." She rubbed her stomach in anticipation.

Mitchell chuckled. "That is a _shit_ load of chicken. My god."

As if he'd summoned it, there was a knock on their door. Evelyn slid off the bed and met the delivery man at the door before walking back in the room with a large plastic bag.

"We have to make a deal before we eat this." She said, pointing a finger at Mitchell. "No food flinging. It's too good to waste and unless you want to be sleeping on rice…"

Mitchell sat with his legs crossed on the floor. "Scout's honor." He said as he watched her sit and pull our several cartons of food. He leaned in to sniff all of them, but Evelyn lightly tapped his cheek.

"Get out of there; I have to prepare it first." She smiled and he sat straight up.

She prepared each of them a variety of food on plastic plates before sliding one to Mitchell. "Now the big questions is…fork, or chop sticks?" She held both up with her hands, and Mitchell snatched the fork with a mock evil laugh.

By the time they were done, Mitchell had eaten every last grain of rice when Evelyn had complained of herself over-eating.

"Sounds like you'll be having one of those terrible stomach aches later on, huh?" She jested from her bed. Mitchell was sitting in the leather chair in the corner by the window, his face a bit twisted in pain.

"If I do I'll be sure to leave you a gift while you're sleeping later." He joked, but his stomach was so near bursting he could barely speak.

Evelyn sat up quickly, her face screwed up with a sick feeling. "Actually…I think I'm going to-"She suddenly sprung up from her bed and sprinted into the bathroom. Mitchell sat up as fast as his digestive system would allow him, but he could already hear the echoes of her food coming up in the toilet.

He gave her a moment to herself until he peeked in. She was resting her arm on the rim of the toilet with her cheek on her arm. When Mitchell saw her about to purge again, he knelt down and bunched her hair in his hand and held it out of her way.

Once she was able to talk again, she thanked Mitchell before resting her cheek on her arm again. Her face was tinted a shade of green. "Could you do me a huge favor, Mitchell? Could you get me that medicine from the doctor…it's in my bag somewhere."

Without a word, Mitchell did just that. He fetched her some water as she took it all down. Evelyn sat up and leaned against the wall.

"That was weird. I felt fine all day." She muttered with a yawn that followed.

Mitchell was leaning on the counter. "Maybe it takes a while for the drugs to fill your system." He honestly hadn't a clue, but it seemed logical. He offered her his hand before pulling her up to her feet.

"Let's get you ready for bed; you've had a long day." He suggested as he walked behind her out into the main room. The sun was setting now, casting glorious orange haze over the green land.

Mitchell sat and watched as the sun slowly descended below the earth while Evelyn was in the shower. He heard the bathroom door open.

"Mitchell…" She called; her voice had a strange tone to it.

"Yeah?" He turned his head in the direction of the bathroom.

"Uh…I didn't bring extra clothes for tonight. Would you happen to have any? I expect not because guys don't usually over pack like ladies do. Except I only packed day clothes for tomorrow." She mumbled, peeking through the crack of the door with a towel wrapped around her.

Mitchell chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I should have something. It's going to be big on you though." He rummaged through his bag and grabbed a plain black t-shirt and the only thing he had for bottoms were some black boxer shorts. He hesitated on those, not wanting to completely make it awkward.

It was just underwear, right? It's not like either of them had never seen it before.

He snatched it anyway and turning his head so as to not see her, held out his arm until he felt her pull them away. "Thank you. Ooo, I've never worn _these_ suckers before." She joked in a fit of giggles.

Mitchell playfully rolled his eyes and shook his head and walked back over to his bed. The moon was nearly full, hanging at just the perfect spot outside the window.

When Evelyn came out from the bathroom, her hair was a long damp mess and Mitchell couldn't help but have a laugh. She truly did look like a miniature, female version of him. She was drowning in his shirt.

Evelyn side-eyed him speculatively as she prepped her bed.

"It's _adorable_." He reassured her, watching as her cheeks painted a pastel pink shade. He smiled to himself.

"Telly?" She asked as she buried herself beneath the fluffy white blanket. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

Mitchell pulled his blanket halfway up and rested his arm behind his head. This sort of thing was starting to become customary now. Whenever he'd have a ghastly day, it always seemed to conclude with him being completely grounded by Evelyn. He couldn't quite put his finger on why this was, but he had a feeling it was at least in part related to the fact that they were both battling demons, though wholly different types of demons. The unfair part was that she hadn't a clue about his. Realistically, he felt it _was_ fair that she didn't know, at least until he ever found the right moment to explain it to her.

He wasn't sure how much times had passed, but before he knew it, he was asleep. Evelyn was finishing an episode of a show when she looked over to find Mitchell passed out. She flicked off the T.V and quietly flipped over onto her side, adjusting herself to be comfortable.

The moonlight was pouring into their room, and it perfectly illuminated Mitchell. She stared at his peaceful, sleeping body. His chest rose and fell steadily. His jacket had been taken off and he was sleeping in a tank top. His had fairly defined muscles, even while relaxed.

Somehow, he managed to look lonely in the midst of his tranquility. Before she could properly think on it, her eyes fell heavy and soon she was sleeping, too.

Evelyn woke up, startled by the sound of heavy panting and the rustling of sheets. She let her eyes adjust until she watched as Mitchell was fidgeting in his sleep. His body sometimes looked as if it was strangling itself, and she could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

She slipped out of her blanket and quietly walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm and shook him a little, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Mitchell? _Mitchell_…wake up, you're havi-" She gasped when he abruptly sprung forward with an expression full of anxiety, his arms had grasped hers. Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned her head, half expecting an accidental head-butt. But instead, she felt the loosening of his grip on her arms and she slowly turned to look at him.

He rested his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his hair, catching up with his breath.

"Bad dream?" She inquired softly. He nodded, and she grabbed a tissue from the table between their beds and wiped his forehead dry.

He sat up a bit and looked at her moonlit face. "Thank you." He muttered quietly.

For a moment, the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. His face was a mere couple inches from hers, and just for a second she swore he leaned in closer before he pulled back and laid back down.

She shuffled back to her bed in silence, her heart pumping a little faster than normal. She sat there for a minute and then she grabbed her pillow and wrapped her blanket around her before padding to Mitchell's bed. She lay down beside him but leaving enough personal space. The questioning look on his face asked her what she was doing without words.

"I want to be here in case you have another one." She said sleepily, completely cocooned in her blanket. Mitchell smiled sleepily before they were asleep again.

Mitchell opened his eyes, and his next inhale was one full of the smell of blood. His eyes shot open without moving, but then he realized his situation: his nose was buried in the crook of Evelyn's neck, his arm wrapped securely around her small frame and her body molded into his. The sun was just beginning to rise above the plains. He smiled to himself and allowed sleep to come over him once more.


	6. An Act of War

**Ch. 6 – An Act of War**

Mitchell fell onto the couch, newspaper and coffee in hand. He held the phone between his jaw and shoulder as he propped his feet up onto the coffee table. It was Thursday morning and he was unemployed again. Evelyn began her classes on Monday after a near scare that she wouldn't be enrolling after all due to her illness. The school board was concerned with her having to miss some days due to her treatments and that it might have an impact on her learning. But rather than penalize her, they granted her several excusable sick leave days which she could make up for on the weekends or whenever she didn't have treatment.

Mitchell didn't feel as if he were getting anywhere just being the cleaning guy at the hospital, so he quit. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd do for income, but he made it by on his own before without much money. Eventually, he'd consider better employment, especially now that he had officially updated Annie on everything over the phone.

Minus the whole blood thirst fiasco, and the run-in with other vampires…or his frequent nightmares.

Since the morning after Evelyn's first treatment, when they woke up in each other's arms, somehow their relationship felt a bit strained. He seemed to have made the mistake of apologizing and explaining to her that it was an accident, an unconscious reaction while he was asleep. He could see it in her face that he had hurt her feelings, which only confirmed that she had feelings for him beyond just friendship.

But he panicked; he was positive she was only on strict-friend terms with him so he spluttered out the first excuse that came to him. He wasn't even entirely sure where he stood either, if he would want to pursue a deeper relationship.

The human part of him wanted to, the monster in him wanted him to in a completely and utterly dangerous way, which was also the part of him that wouldn't want to.

He explained this struggle to Annie, whom he was talking with on the phone now. It was already evening time over in Australia where she was. She was extremely happy; he could hear her smiling each time they spoke on the phone.

"You know, I can't just…I can't just _be_ in a relationship. I can't even just think about. I want to, but I can't." He wasn't sure if that really conveyed his feelings, but Annie was pretty good and understanding things without gritty details.

"If you _really_ want it you'll find a way to make it work," her voice came through the phone. "You have to figure out a way to discipline your…urges." She made a slight face of disgust to herself, though Mitchell couldn't see it. She wasn't sure which 'urges' even she was speaking of.

Mitchell set his paper down and rubbed the corners of his eyes. "I've tried, and…I can't tell if it's getting better or worse. When I think I'm headed in one way then I act on the other." He sighed, the best way to explain this to her was to bring up the restaurant incident. He left out the drug detail – he didn't do it so it didn't count, right?

Rather than a scolding from Annie, she shrieked with joy. "_See_?! You _do_ have control, Mitchell! It's possible! If it weren't, well…you'd probably be locked away in a prison cell right now. You just need to find a way to…practice that inner strength." Her voice chirped optimistically. Mitchell was smiling and shaking his head. Even when she knew what kind of damage he was capable of, she still cheered him on.

_Evelyn_

She had just walked into her door after her morning classes. She only had two today, and despite all her worry she felt she did decent. She kicked off her shoes, gathered some clean clothes from her bedroom, and made her way into the shower.

As she was lathering her extra-long mane with shampoo, she went to reach for the soap before noticing several locks of hair clinging to the back of her hand.

"Oh no, no…" She muttered to herself, gently pulling her hand further away so as to be sure this hair was separate from her head. Indeed, she was correct. She then looked down at the shower floor only to find more chunks of hair lying there as the water rinsed the soap through her hair and taking single strands with it.

Her eyes welled up; something about the hair loss reminded her of her condition and that it was indeed real. Some days, she forgot she was sick. Other days, the feeling of fatigue and nausea and being bed-ridden for hours would serve as a morbid realization.

Though she attempted to control herself, she began to sob. Her small body huddled up against the corner of the shower wall as she slid down it, becoming a trembling ball of frail skin and bones.

After a while, she came up with an idea, but she'd need help. She took deep breaths, not allowing herself to cry anymore today and she quickly finished her wash.

All within a few minutes she was dry, clothed, and her hair was combed. She turned around and looked over her shoulder in the mirror behind her. Rather than a thick mass of long mane, there was an inconsistent pattern of thinned out areas and places where it was obvious hair was missing.

All she had to do now was make a run to the market, and she'd be at Mitchell's front door.

_Mitchell_

He finally decided to wash all of his dirty clothes that littered every square inch of his bedroom floor. Just as he finished stuffing the washing machine, he heard a knock on his front door downstairs.

He scurried down the stairs and opened his door to find Evelyn standing there, plastic bag in hand.

"You're out early today." He observed, though he actually didn't quite have her schedule down to a tee just yet. She walked over the threshold,

"I only have two morning classes on Thursdays." She said without much emotion. She seemed preoccupied.

Mitchell shut the door behind him and frowned slightly. "What's the matter? Bad day?"

Evelyn sat at the edge of the couch and patted a spot next to her, where Mitchell joined her.

"Not necessarily a bad day…well, maybe. It started out fine…then I took a shower and this happened." From her bag she grabbed a relatively thick bunch of hair that was tied with a hair band and held it out to show Mitchell.

He didn't need any explanation to understand what was going on. He just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. His brows were knitted together in lament.

"So…I thought about it and I've decided to make a plunge." Her hand reached in the bag again, this time pulling out an electric hair clipper.

"You want to grow a beard?" Mitchell asked with sarcasm, though he wasn't positive where she was going with this.

She gently whacked his arm, "No, silly. I want to finish the job myself. But I need help so I want to give you the honors." She placed the tool in Mitchell's hand as he came to terms with this.

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you sure? You don't want to…savor what's left?"

She shook her head. "I feel like that's letting cancer win. I want to take the reins on this one. That way, no more surprises."

Mitchell smiled at this. In a completely different way, he understood where she was coming from. He knew this process was going to be an enormous rollercoaster of emotions, but he also knew the best method was to remain optimistic overall, even on your worst days.

He gestured with his head for her to follow him upstairs to the bathroom. She waited in the hall, checking out the upstairs portion of the house she'd never seen before. She peered into Mitchell's room as he went in there and noticed, upon closer inspection, a necklace bearing the Star of David on his dresser.

As Mitchell was looking for something, she walked in and took a closer look. "Do you practice Judaism?" Her voice took Mitchell by surprise; he hadn't noticed she was there.

He rummaged through his closet before coming across a towel that would be their makeshift drape. He looked over at her. "Oh, no…that actually belonged to George." He watched as her eyes seemed to have found the red specks of blood, and before she could ask any questions, he led her out of the room and into the bathroom.

"You hold this," he said as he handed her the towel and tools. "And I'll go find something you can sit on."

She took everything and looked into the mirror, but the strangest thing happened. She could have sworn on her grave that for the second Mitchell was in the room with her, he wasn't in the mirror with her. She closed her eyes for a moment; she was probably just tired. Even still, an odd mistake to make….

Mitchell hadn't thought of this problem before he made the decision to do this in the bathroom, but he couldn't decide if it would seem suspicious of him to suddenly change rooms. He paced back and forth, but he had a plan.

He found a wooden stool in the closet of the spare bedroom and went back to the bathroom.

"Alright, there's a catch. You can't look until I've finished." He crouched down a bit, trying to do so inconspicuously. He set the stool down and guided her to sit facing the wall so that her back was to the mirror, and he would be safe for now.

He draped the towel around her front and ripped some of it so that he could tie it in the back. He leaned over next to her to look at her.

"Ready?" He couldn't lie, he was a bit excited, though he wasn't sure why.

"Ready! Hurry before I change my mind." She said with a tight-lipped smile on her face.

Mitchell sat up straight and once the sound of buzzing began, he began smoothing out the top of her hair. He began at the side and gently brought the razor back as nearly two feet of hair fell to the floor. Evelyn was sitting as still as stone.

He continued this pattern until he got to the last of the left side, but when he got to the base of her head, the corner of the razor knicked her skin and a thin line of blood appeared. She flinched.

"_Sorry!_ I'm sorry, I…" His breathing began to hasten, his eyes unable to take themselves off the red mark.

"Is it bad?" She asked as she turned her head just slightly, wondering what was holding him up.

Mitchell sluggishly shook his head even though she couldn't see him. His hands were trembling now as his thumb glided over the cut to wipe it away.

"No, no it's little. We're almost done." He tried to camouflage the sound of his heavy breathing with the sound of the razor buzzing. He tried forcing himself to calm down so he didn't slip up again.

Once he regained a little control back, he finally made the last shave without any damage and switched the razor off. He wiped away all the loose hair; the floor looked like a brand new rug had just appeared below them.

"Done. You have a look and I'll go get you a bandage." He quickly ducked out of the room before she turned around to inspect herself. She walked closer to the mirror, rotating her head in every which direction to soak it in. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but this time they were of happiness. She grinned at the new her.

Mitchell came back, bandage in hand, and stayed out of the mirror's view as he stuck it onto where the cut was still oozing a bit. He forgot that she bled more easily than the average person, and it was nearly overwhelming his nostrils.

She turned to face him, and his heart accelerated for a completely different reason now.

"What do you think?" He asked, holding back a smile even though it was showing through his eyes.

"I think I love it. Thank you." She whispered sincerely, and the tension between them returned. Evelyn was subconsciously rubbing the smooth baby stubble hair at the back of her head. He could feel her warm breath on his face now. The space between them was becoming less and less, but Mitchell couldn't go any further.

He knew that making sort of commitment meant telling her _everything_ about himself, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that yet.

He took a step past her and knelt down on the floor, gathering the bunches of hair into a pile. She closed her eyes and silently took a deep breath. This was happening too often for her taste and it was toying with her mind now.

She pulled a piece of cloth material from her pocket and unraveled it; a bandana. It was designed with violet and rich blue floral patterns. She folded it before wrapping it on her head and tying it at her neck, watching in the mirror as it took the place of her bald head.

Mitchell stood up from the floor and looked over at her. "What's that for?"

She shrugged as she fiddled with it to stay in place. "I figured until I get used to the feeling of not having hair…"

Mitchell gave her 'the look'; he knew she was feeling ashamed though she wouldn't admit it. Again, a situation beyond her control. His hands found the tie at the base of her neck and he undid it, sliding the cloth from her head.

"You look fine. You're never going to get used to it if you keep hiding." What he really wanted to say was, _you look beautiful_. Somehow, the lack of hair brought out her large emerald green eyes as well as her freckled cheeks.

He put the scarf in her hands before making his way downstairs. She stood there in silence and watched him leave before running a hand over her naked scalp. Sometimes she thought he knew her better than she knew herself.

While Mitchell was pre-occupied downstairs, making what smelled like some sort of late lunch, Evelyn snuck into his room again. She quietly tiptoed to George's necklace, leaning in until she was nearly touching it with her nose.

There were traces of red embedded in the chain. The strangest part to her was that she'd been told George and his family had died in the electrical fire – so how did Mitchell come around to getting something like this if they had burned in the fire?

She couldn't ponder the thought too long as Mitchell called her down to eat. Something just wasn't adding up.

When she got downstairs in the kitchen, a grilled cheese sandwich was waiting for her at the table and Mitchell was sitting across from it. She gasped in delight and took a seat. Then she realized she didn't quite know what this delicacy was.

"What is it?" She asked curiously, parting the bread and looking to see what was in it. Just cheese.

Mitchell laughed at her. "It's called a grilled cheese sandwich. I used to work with an American lad who said it's a favorite quick meal from where he's from."

Evelyn nodded in approval after she took a bite. "It's not anything I would go bananas over if I were told it was just a grilled cheese sandwich. But I'll admit, it's tasty."

After lunch, Mitchell walked her home. She had her second treatment tomorrow, but this time it would be at the local hospital for one reason or another. She asked if he'd be able to make it, but he had something else in mind. It was something he'd been wanting to do since he had stepped foot in Evelyn's house the first time. Instead, he offered to walk her to and from as consolation. She accepted this as they said their goodbyes until tomorrow.

The following morning, after Mitchell walked Evelyn to the hospital bright and early at 7 A.M., he made a stop to a somewhat nearby hardware store. He was going to surprise Evelyn by painting her main room. She didn't have the time and possibly not the knowledge of doing it, so he would. Being surrounded by stark white walls all the time couldn't be healthy for anyone.

He noticed over the last couple months of knowing her that she tended to favor blues and purples; she often wore them in her clothing. They reminded him of a peacock, so those were the colors he chose.

He had a whole cart full of paints, brushes, primers, and any other necessary accessories he needed. The challenge was going to be to get this done before Evelyn finished treatment, but since her main room wasn't overwhelmingly large, he was confident about it.

He had so many supplies that he had to get a cab ride just a couple blocks down from Evelyn's house. He had made sure before they left this morning that he was the last to leave so he could keep her front door unlocked.

Once inside, he dropped all of this things by the door, arranged all the furniture (which wasn't much) to the center of the room, laid down a plastic cover over her floor, lined any trims with tape, prepared the paint, and got to work.

Like many of the flats around here, there were often weird wall angle and Evelyn's was no different. Two of the walls he painted an azure blue and the other two a byzantium violet. After an hour of it all drying, he applied another coat and after five hours, he had finished.

He cleaned up the mess and put the furniture in their original spots and making any modifications as less obvious as possible, with the exception of the new walls. He rested his hands on his hips and looked around, feeling quite proud of his work. Living with Annie for so long had many perks, and the knowledge of interior design was one of them.

Once he returned home and buried all the paint supplies in a closet, it was about time to pick Evelyn up.

When he got to the waiting room, he saw Evelyn curled up in one of the couches. He smiled crookedly and walked over to her, gently shaking her shoulder. He'd wondered how long she had been done for.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to her surroundings as Mitchell's face came into focus.

"How long was I sleeping for?" She asked, as if he'd been there the whole time. He helped her get to her feet.

"You tell me, I only just got here. It's nearly five." He said as they walked through the front doors of the hospital.

"I just got out ten minutes ago!" She said groggily, her eyes squinting in the day's light.

Mitchell chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It wasn't long before they were at her doorstep. He played it cool when they walked inside, the fresh smell of paint meeting their noses. He had cracked some windows to air out the place.

It took her a bit longer than he expected to notice the change. When she did, her keys fell to the floor, her mouth fell open, and she was frozen. Mitchell stood behind her with a tight-lipped smile spread across his face.

"Oh…my..._what_?!" She turned on her heel and looked up at Mitchell, poking him in his chest as she so often did. "_This_ is why you couldn't come today!"

Mitchell laughed a throaty laugh; his face resembling that of what Evelyn would dub a 'sneaky bastard'.

"_Thank_ you! Thank you, thank you." She wrapped her arms tightly around his rib cage and he paused for a second before wrapping his around her shoulders.

"You deserve it." He muttered, and after a few seconds he pulled away so he could open her windows further. The fumes were a bit overwhelming to him, but considering he had a heightened sense of smell, it was all the more sensitive to him.

"How did you know these were my favorite colors, anyway?" She asked with a tone of intrigue; as far as she remembered she had never told him.

Mitchell laughed a bit and nodded toward her clothes. Her pants were a deep blue and the scarf tied on her head was violet.

Evelyn grinned, shaking her head at him. "You're one of a kind if you can notice things like that. Guys can barely recall a girls' hair color even if they've been married twenty years." She was admittedly impressed. She was also quite exhausted; she wasn't sure why this round of chemo was so taxing on her, but she could barely feel any strength in her legs.

"Just make sure you keep your bedroom door shut so you're not breathing this stuff in all night." He stated, mentally noting that she was already lightheaded enough as it was.

With that in mind and seeing as it was nearly completely dark out, he decided he should probably let her get some rest. She walked him to the door.

"Thank you again, I mean it. If I could sleep in here tonight I would." She was smiling ear to ear. Mitchell returned this gesture and went back home.

-  
_Evelyn_

It was some time in the middle of the night that she heard it; thumping sounds coming from what seemed to be her roof and her walls. She was sitting up in bed, unsure if she was only paranoid or if she should check up on the house.

Looking at her alarm clock, it was 2 A.M. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone from her nightstand, cradling it close to her. She kept hearing the noises, but they weren't of any pattern such as a plumping problem. It was inconsistent and seemed to be becoming more frequent.

As she crept down the stairs one step at a time, she began to dial Mitchell's house number just in case. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and peeked around the corner of the wall down toward her main room.

The sounds were louder down here, but she couldn't pin point where the source was. Feeling her stomach twisting with anxiety, she pressed the 'call' button on the phone.

At almost that exact moment, something tight caught ahold of her ankle and the floor was swept out from beneath her. Her breath got caught in her throat and she dropped the phone as forehead smashed into the floor.

It was almost pitch black; she couldn't see what was happening. All she knew was that she was screaming at the top of her lungs a she was being dragged further from the phone and closer to the main room.

Her forehead was searing with pain, and when she tried to breathe properly was when she heard several voices in the room. The dragging was pulling up her t-shirt and the roughness of the flooring was burning her skin.

"_MITCHELL!"_ She begged as the phone disappeared from her sight. Finally the dragging stopped, but an icy cold hand was placed firmly over her mouth and her body was roughly flipped over onto her back.

The only thing she could see were the silhouettes of four people against her open windows. Her arms and legs were bound by their hands, pressed against the floor. Her chest heaved and heaved; it was becoming impossible to breathe properly with the hand blocking both her nose and mouth.

"_Hold_ still!" Hissed a woman's voice, which was followed by an excruciating pain left in Evelyn's shin where the woman stomped on to keep her quiet.

Evelyn's eyes were pouring tears now; the pain was unbearable. She felt the warm liquid from her forehead trickling near the corner of her eye now.

The people surrounding her were speaking in low voices, something about 'him' and 'us', words like 'clan' and 'recruit'…

Between the throbbing of the pain from different parts of her body, just feet away she heard Mitchell's voice coming through the phone speaker. Her eyes widened in heightened panic; she tried making any noise possible but nothing would work. She tried pounding her fist on the floor, but the man holding them down had an iron grip.

"Knock it off!" Bellowed the woman again, and next something clashed with her right rib cage. In the same moment, she managed to bite a finger of the hand covering her face. The man hollered and Evelyn screamed in agony; it felt like her ribs had cracked.

"_MITCHE-!_" She used her split second of free time to call for him, but now the man who she'd bitten placed one hand over his other and pressed down alarmingly hard on Evelyn's mouth.

She was beginning to lose a lot of blood now; she was becoming woozy and her attention was slipping. After her treatment earlier in the day and the fact that blood loss was worse for her, this was going downhill fast.

They were still talking amongst each other and she was starting to fade in and out. She could hardly hold onto their words.

There was a piercing, agonizing pain in her left arm now – she could see one of the silhouettes moving their arm with some sort of intentional pattern no her arms. There would be a line, a break, another line….as she was beginning to lose consciousness, she could still make out that they were carving something into her arm.

Her breathing was becoming shallower with each slice.

Before she could try to make one last effort at saving herself before she let herself die, there was a banging at her front door. She heard the familiar voice of Mitchell; this time it was one she'd never heard before. It was angry.

Her vision was becoming more and more fuzzy; shapes were blending together and giant blobs. In her throat she was calling Mitchell's name, but it wasn't audible.

The next thing she knew, all the weight that had been pinning her down was lifted. There was the sound of glass breaking somewhere. There was hollering, shouting, screaming, roaring, and the giant black blobs against her windows were moving at such high speeds it was making her dizzier. She couldn't move.

Her half-shut eyes followed the silhouette she recognized as Mitchell's, judging by the curly hair atop his head. But what was he doing? She could see four bodies going after him, several arms clawing at each other, and Mitchell looked as if he were pouncing on them.

She was fading; even the horrendous noises coming from just ten feet away were being extinguished from her ears.

Mitchell was in a full-on rage; he chased out the last vampire before doing a last check on the house to be sure they were all gone. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were as black as coal. Finally, he looked over at Evelyn's seemingly lifeless body and jumped over to her, falling to his knees. His eyes returned to normal, although the scent of an immense spill of blood was filling his nose quickly, threatening to turn him into a monster again.

"_Evelyn_…Evie, can you hear me?" He gently patted her face, unsure of where to touch due to all the damage that had been done. Panicking and panting, he slid his arms beneath her and picked her up before quickly leaving her house.

He ran as fast as he could without being noticed by any neighbors, keeping a wary eye out for any unwanted guests returning.

Barging through his still-open front door, he switched on a light an instantly inspected the damage he could see on Evelyn. She was unconscious.

"_Shit!_" He breathed; her face was stained with freshly-oozing blood, her clothes were patched with it in different area.

And on her arm was some sort of lettering that he couldn't make out due to the blood.

In any normal circumstance, he would have the ambulance here by now, but this was the furthest thing from normal. He couldn't very well tell them it was a vampire attack, and with all the injuries and the likelihood of them finding out Mitchell was the only friend she had here, he would very well be arrested on the spot for anything up to attempted murder.

He would have to handle this himself.

He frantically carried her up the stairs, his body sweating profusely. He was covered in all sorts of blood and debris, his hair in every which direction.

For the sake of Evelyn's life, he had to put aside any immodesty. He had to get her undressed in order to properly inspect her injuries and to clean them. He stepped into the bathroom and gently placed her in the bathtub, propping her upper body and head up against the back of the tub where there was a slope.

The blood was attributing to his mental struggle to keep calm. He kept Annie's words in his head about being able to fight any compulsion. He filled the tub with lukewarm water and began peeling away her soiled clothes. She was nearly fully nude, but because the old human part of him was a gentleman, he left her underwear on; it didn't seem she sustained any wounds there anyway.

Once the bath filled a halfway high, he switched the water off and grabbed a clean sponge from the corner, soaked it, and began squeezing the water over her skin to rinse the blood away.

He tried to do all of this as quick as possible as she had already lost a lot of blood. Instead, he gently used his arms to submerge her entire body in the water, the water reaching just below her ears. He rinsed away her forehead wound.

The blood was a murky red now; it looked like a murder scene. He began to dab at the open wounds with the sponge, and although she wasn't awake, he still was careful so as not to hurt her.

Once he was satisfied, he drained the water and used the shower head to rinse her properly from the blood-stained water residue. He carried her limp body onto the bathroom carpet as he lightly pat-dried her; again trying to be careful but he needed to get to bandage her up and put pressure on her wounds before she was gone.

Now that he had a better view of her arm, he felt his heart sink to the floor. Carved in sharp letters were the familiar words '_too late_'. Now he was aware this was indirectly a personal attack against him.

He didn't have time to think about that right now, however. He pressed his ear to Evelyn's chest; there was still a heartbeat, but it sounded slower than what he remembered to be normal. He pulled out a gauze roll and antibiotic gel from beneath the counter and applied all of these things everywhere there was an open wound.

Her rib cage and her shin were a deep shade of red with hints of purple forming. All he could do with those for now was to make sure no pressure was applied to those areas.

Again, he hoisted her into his arms, careful to distribute her weight evenly. He laid her down in his bed, grabbed some fresh clothes, and made an attempt to clothe her. Keeping his eyes averted, he slipped off her undergarments as they were sopping wet and replaced them with an oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts. It would have to do for now.

He brought up a blanket to her shoulders and sat in a chair in the corner of his room. His expression was that of fury as he kept his eyes on her still body for any sign of movement.

'_Too late_' – what did it mean? At first he had thought the incident in the alley was its own incident, but then he began to have nightmares about it, and now this happened. To him, they appeared to be mutually exclusive.

To him, this meant war.


	7. The Reveal

**Ch. 7 – The Reveal**

The sun had risen by now and was pouring itself against Mitchell's bedroom curtains. It was a rarity that they ever got sunlight here; he loved it except for how sensitive his eyes were to it.

He was still sitting stone cold in his bedroom chair. He reached his arm over and parted the curtains enough for light to spill in, but not enough for it to meet his eyes.

Evelyn had stirred a couple times during the night, and though it wasn't much, it reassured Mitchell that she had the energy to do so. He hadn't so much as lifted a leg since he sat down. His mood was brooding and the smell of blood in the air was nauseatingly appetizing.

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't kill again…but he nearly did last night, and he planned to in the future.

It seemed this unknown vampire group came here to send him a message, one that he still couldn't comprehend. Other than defending themselves last night, they barely put up a fight with him. In fact, they were almost reluctant to challenge him.

He had recognized the woman as the one he'd run into previously in the alley, the one who'd given him George's necklace. The other three he hadn't recognized; even in the darkness he could make out their faces.

He hadn't realized he was still in his filth-ridden clothes, but he hardly had the brain power to care.

Evelyn looked a quarter mummified: her head and arm were wrapped and there were patches of gauze applied to assorted wound areas.

Evelyn began to finally move, and this time it seemed as though she were waking up. He stood up, feeling his blood come back to life after sitting for six hours. He watched as her face contorted; he assumed she was recognizing every ounce of pain afflicting her body.

He crawled onto his side of the bed. She parted open her eyes, slowly taking in her surroundings. After a moment, she gingerly turned her head to see Mitchell staring down at her. The feeling in her body was returning to her; not only the injuries, but the binding of bandages.

She raised her hand to her head to confirm that there was something there, then looked down at her other arm that was wrapped and covering the morbid message. The bruising everywhere else was throbbing.

She inhaled, but her ribs protested. "What happened?" Her voice was barely audible.

Mitchell didn't think to come up with a believable story for when she woke up. He supposed he was worried she _wouldn't_ wake up. He figured there was a way to tell the story without the whole truth.

He cleared his throat. "Some people broke into your house last night…and did all of this to you." He motioned at her bandaged body. Only now she did notice she wasn't in her own clothes anymore.

Her eyes widened a little more and she looked into his eyes. "Is it bad?"

Mitchell nodded. "You're better now, but…it was pretty gruesome last night. To be honest, I didn't think you would make it." Honesty was the best policy in his book, unless it involved vampires.

She pondered this thought for a while. "No, I remember now…you were there. But…" She paused. Last night there had been something about Mitchell that as not so…Mitchell. She knew that she eventually lost consciousness, given her lack of memory after that, but she distinctly remembered seeing him do things she'd never imagined he could do. Even in the dark she was aware of this.

Mitchell didn't push the subject. In fact, he'd rather her not speculate on anything.

"You were…aggressive. And I'd never seen you move so fast, or…or want to hurt somebody so badly." She spoke softly. Mitchell's face didn't move.

"They probably would have _killed_ you, Evelyn. It was nothing more than self defense." He tried to sound encouraging, but if he was being honest with himself, it was getting tiring having to hide from everyone. Especially from Evelyn, who was generally a very open-minded woman. But she'd never experienced anything like him before, so how she'd react if she knew was still up in the air. His tone was hardly convincing.

Evelyn continued to stare, almost as if she were trying to find the truth deep inside his eyes. "Something's the matter. You're not even trying to defend yourself."

Mitchell groaned and sat back into his pillow, his head tilted up toward the ceiling. "I _told_ you already. It's what happens when you get an adrenaline rush; it was an emergency situation! I had to do what I had to do." Now he was getting defensive, though he wished he hadn't raised his voice. Evelyn was the victim of something she had nothing to do with.

She finally looked away from him. She didn't believe him and that was a first for her. He was lying to her. In part she knew was telling the truth, but he was hiding something. The bloodied necklace of his best friend, the events from last night….

Ex-con? Murderer? Psychopath?

He mumbled something about making breakfast as he left the room. She watched him go and slowly began to sit up, her limbs numb from lying in the same position all night.

The unwrapped the gauze on her left arm only to reveal a message that had been carved into it. She brought her free hand to her mouth and began panting. _Too late_? Who would break into her home to attack her and leave this on her arm? She had no known enemies in her life.

She slid out of bed and noticed her pile of clothes in the corner of the room, blushing a deep scarlet red as she felt lightheaded again. She trusted Mitchell enough to know he hadn't done anything imprudent, but the fact that he probably had seen all of her buck naked was a terrifying thought.

She shuffled into the bathroom to take a look at herself. She looked paler than normal, her bespeckled cheeks standing out over the white. She unwrapped the bandage on her head as the smell of eggs wafted upstairs, her stomach stirring. There was a moderately large gash on her forehead and swollen skin all around it.

Lifting her shirt, a bruise the size of a grown man's fist was forming, making it difficult to as much as yawn. Her shin was another story – she knew it wasn't broken, but whenever she put weight on it, it sure felt like it.

She tossed her dirty bandages in the garbage before limping her way downstairs. She wondered what her own house looked like after the night's events.

Before she reached the bottom landing, Mitchell was already scooping her up and settling her into a chair in the kitchen. She was unsure what to say, or if it was safe to bring up last night again. She couldn't help but wonder what Mitchell was hiding from her, or why she was so hellbent in thinking that he _was_ hiding something from her.

They ate in silence, and it was possibly the most uncomfortable experience they'd experienced together. Mitchell was staring at her arm with the words on it, anger refueling him. Without thinking, he slammed his fork into the table and it suck there.

Evelyn froze. She didn't want to admit it, but this sudden change in his behavior sort of frightened her. She wanted to thank him over and over again for saving her life, but as the minutes wore on, any thought of mentioning anything related to last night were becoming sour.

After a few minutes of more silence, he finally spoke. "I'm sorry." His voice was barely audible.

Evelyn shook her head at him in confusion. "Why are you apologizing? _I'm_ sorry…I don't know why I accused you of-"

"Because it's _true_." He enunciated every word as if she were hard of hearing.

She frowned, confused. "What is…?" She was hoping he wasn't going to respond back with 'murderer'.

Mitchell was apprehensive. Was this really how it was going to happen? He contemplated his options first.

_No, not yet_, he thought. He was going to tell her, that much he did know. If he was going to hunt those bloodsuckers down, he needed to tell her. He was sick of beating around the bush and constantly having to find ways around explaining things to Evelyn.

It was eating him alive. He kept his eyes focused on the fork embedded in his wooden table.

"I'll tell you later. Tonight." He murmured.

"But why not now?" Now she was anxious to know, especially if it had to be a specific time to tell her.

"You'll understand after I tell you." There was no way he would be able to contain himself with her fresh wounds out in the open right now. Plus, she'd had enough shock in the last few hours, he would at least give her some leeway.

He would have to be sure her wounds were covered; though it wouldn't completely mask the smell or the knowledge that the blood is there, it would help it being out of sight. For right now, it was probably good to let her wounds breathe before wrapping them again.

Evelyn only nodded in agreement, her eyes fixated on his face as she was trying to solve the puzzle that was his thoughts.

"You have to stay here for now, though. At least until we know it's safe again." The way he presented this declaration left no room for questioning. "I'll go get whatever you'll need that will last you."

Once she finished eating, she assisted Mitchell by writing him a relatively small list of essential things she'd need. Mainly, this included any clothes he could muster in one trip, toiletries, her medication, and her school books. He insisted she stay here.

_School…_, she only just remembered she missed her class today. There'd be no way she could show up looking as she did, especially for her drama course in which they often simulated fictional characters and had to be believable doing it. She would just be the highlight of the day for separate reasons.

Mitchell was there and back again in a jiffy. He had a large black bag stuffed with her belongings and brought them up into the spare bedroom just down the hall from him.

Evelyn stood from her chair, careful to lend her weight to her good leg. Just as she was about to step for the stairs, Mitchell came hurling down as if he'd planned this execution, picked her up, and brought her upstairs.

If her leg hadn't truly been excruciating with pain, she would've protested this. Mitchell sat her down on the bed in the spare bedroom.

"You stay put and I'll get everything." He left for the bathroom and when he returned, it was with an armful of what she assumed were the supplies he used on her last night.

Then Evelyn remembered something: the voices and the words she overheard before she had lost consciousness.

"Mitchell…" She spoke softly as he began doing his thing with the antibiotic cream. He looked up at her in acknowledgment.

"Before you got there last night…I heard them talking." Mitchell seemed to pause what he was doing when she said this.

"What were they talking about?" He couldn't imagine the things she may have heard. Often times there were vampires, unlike him, who purposefully spoke and acted indiscreetly.

"I couldn't tell you exactly, but I overheard them referring to a 'him', something about a 'recruit', 'clan'…those were the only ones that stood out. But then again, I was nearly dead." She said with a sarcastic charm, but rather than getting the look from Mitchell, he was voiceless. He seemed to be concentrating more than ever on tending to her wounds.

"Mitchell? Is any of that weird?" She held still as he sat up on his knees to work on her forehead now. He was within inches of her now and she watched as he put his best effort into helping her. She smiled internally; his face was a little twisted in determination.

"Maybe…I guess it depends on the context. But it could be…concerning." He moved to her arm lastly before bandaging each area.

She didn't question this; it was still a relatively touchy topic and she didn't want to push him.

"You saved my life, Mitchell." She whispered, staring idly at the wooden floor beneath her. She only just realized this was only a mattress on a floor and not so much a proper bed, but it'd work.

Mitchell started wrapping her forehead when he finally made eye contact with her for the first time in a while.

The tension resurfaced. He slowly fastened the bandage, but his eyes didn't break away from hers. Her breathing became shallow.

Mitchell leaned in, but went upwards and gently kissed her forehead where it wasn't injured. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent before the moment was cut off as he left the room.

Evelyn opened her eyes again, but now her body was numb with shock. She forced herself to start unpacking what little things she had now that this was her temporary living quarters.

Mitchell was in the stairway, resting his forehead against the wall with his eyes shut. He was getting better at controlling himself, but he had been holding his breath as long as he could while with Evelyn.

When he had gone to retrieve Evelyn's belongings, he didn't realize what sort of state her house would be left in. Here and there, there were splatters of blood from his doing. The floor where Evelyn had been was also stained, and several pieces of furniture had been damaged. He denounced that that house was doomed to be bad luck for anybody that lived there.

A few hours passed, and in that time Evelyn took pain medication, rested, and Mitchell showered and finally finished his laundry worth 3 weeks of clothes. While Evelyn slept, Mitchell made sure to linger around her bedroom so that when he'd be alone with her later, perhaps he wouldn't act out from withdrawal.

The sun was set and it was now night time. Evelyn was watching the telly in the main room as Mitchell cleaned his room, put away his clothes, and parted his curtains for a bit of moonlight.

If he was making a huge mistake, he would be finding out real soon. He looked around his room, making sure anything fragile was out of harm's way. Of course the point was to control himself, but that side of him was, unfortunately, unpredictable.

He also wasn't sure if the eerie display of moonlight was the right direction in revealing himself as a blood-drinking, destructive, potentially deadly being. But perhaps it would lessen the scare factor.

Mitchell tilted his head back and took a deep breath. He couldn't remember in his nearly 160 years of life the last time he had to do this. In fact, it's possible he never did. He either befriended others like him, 'played' with them, or killed innocents.

Evelyn hobbled her way upstairs; Mitchell said he would come get her when he was ready (which raised her suspicions as to what was going to happen or what she was going to find out), but she was getting impatient. Her imagination could only take her so far before she was treading in dangerous territory.

When she got to his partially closed door, she knocked gently. Mitchell greeted her at the door. The darkness of the room, and the fact that he wasn't changing that factor, was a bit ominous to her.

She couldn't help but burst out laughing out of the blue. "What are we doing, Mitchell? I feel like this is going to end up with me in a hostage situation and I'll wind up being your…sex slave or something."

Mitchell looked at her with the most befuddled expression, and for the first time in hours he lost it, doubling over in laughter.

"What sort of fantasies were _you_ having?!" He accused.

Well, at least that ruled out _that_ theory.

"That's just one of at least thirty six. I had a lot of time to think about it." She followed his lead into his bedroom where he closed the door.

"Well, I can promise you _none_ of them are what you're expecting. I don't have to hear them to know." He scooped her up and placed her on his bed, and he sat opposite her. The moonlight was beaming on his face.

"You have to close your eyes." He noted, folding his legs beneath him.

This time, she was giving him the look, but he only returned it more sternly. She sighed, ignoring the protest from her ribs, and did as she was told. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap.

"Just if you're going to tie me up, watch my leg-" She began, but she felt his finger on her lips to cut her off. She only smiled, but then forced herself a serious face.

His heart began racing, but it was out of anxiety and not that he was changing yet. He stared at her soft features, taking her in before he leaned in so close, he could nearly feel the heat radiating off of her pulse.

He closed his eyes and rested his stubbly cheek against her jawline, silently inhaling her scent. His breathing picked up, and though he couldn't see it, Evelyn was trying with difficulty not to giggle from his hair tickling her neck. Plus, she wanted nothing more than to see what exactly he was doing, but she promised earlier on she wouldn't look until he was ready.

Mitchell's hands were becoming clammy beneath the cloth covering his hands, his heart rate picking up, and a sensation of pure ravage was making an attempt to break his interior.

He pulled away a bit, and opened his eyes to reveal eyes as black as the shadows of the room. His fangs were bared, but covered by his lips. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly in agony; how strenuous it was to physically restrain himself from completely destroying either of their lives.

"_Look_," was about all he could muster for now. His hands were grasping the bed beneath him, his knuckles were white as snow, though they couldn't be seen. He tilted his face back up to normal, meeting Evelyn's curious eyes.

Evelyn flinched, unsure if it was an illusion of the darkness, or if she was seeing what she thought. At first her initial instinct was to make a joke to lighten the mood, but she was aware that he wasn't masking his genuine suffering.

She watched as his chest heaved as if he were out of breath, and when he licked his lips, the two pointed teeth gleamed in the light.

Evelyn had multiple thoughts all at once, one of them being doubt…but he hadn't left the bed since they sat, so she knew it wasn't some quirky Halloween costume.

This was Mitchell. John Mitchell, a…vampire.

Several memories came rushing back to her at once: his inability to linger, at times, in close quarters where blood was concerned; when she would sometimes catch him gazing at her with lust (for blood); the lack of reflection in the mirror; and lastly, why he couldn't properly explain certain details about last night's events to her.

And yet, none of this mattered to her in the way he would have expected it to.

She brought both of her hands to his face, gently cupping his face in her hands. This seemed to bring him near the edge of insanity, and while she knew she was testing her limits, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Even if he thought he could.

Mitchell closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. He was unnaturally cold to the touch – another observation she had made earlier on.

She leaned in even closer. By now, she could feel his fast-paced breath on her face. He was still human. She found that she was trembling a little now that she was within this close of proximity.

Evelyn closed her eyes and let her hand fall to his chest where there was barely a heart beat.

This was pure anguish for Mitchell; each one of her movements was causing him to stir internally. He began to fidget.

Evelyn parted open her eyes just slightly and looked up to meet his black ones. She ran her free hand through his thick curls, something she had been eager to do for a while now.

She was taking what she suspected to be baby steps. She certainly didn't want to turn him manic, but she also didn't know what 'buttons' to avoid. After all, this was the first vampire she'd ever met…to her knowledge.

Mitchell released his hands from the bed, which made Evelyn flinch. He held them out to his sides briefly before he allowed one to be placed on the small of her back. Evelyn shuddered at his touch.

She gently leaned her forehead against his, looking straight up into his blackened eyes. Given the danger this was supposed to be, she assumed this was at least a good start.

But she couldn't take the tension any longer; there had been too many episodes of that lately.

She tilted her head just slightly and closed her eyes, closing the gap between them as she softly kissed his cold lips.

This threw Mitchell into overdrive; his eyes pinched together and he took a deep breath, his hand's grip on her back tightening some.

Mitchell pressed his mouth against hers with more force, and now they were finally kissing. Something they had both been waiting for longer than either of them realized.

She wrapped her other arm around his neck, still making a subconscious effort to not pull the wrong trigger. Mitchell pushed her body down onto the bed with his, filling any space they had between them.

They could both feel that with every second, he was becoming more aggressive, but so far it hadn't crossed any boundaries that it shouldn't. Mitchell broke away from her mouth and quickly found him at her neck.

She kept her eyes closed; this would be the ultimate test. She trusted him, even if a small twinge in her stomach was telling her otherwise.

Mitchell's mouth lingered at the curvature of her neck in torment. Evelyn felt unsure about how long he was waiting to make his decision, so she made it for him.

She grabbed his head and rotated it back to face her, lifting her head slightly to kiss him again. Mitchell kissed her eagerly, wanting more, but knowing he couldn't.

Somehow, this embrace revamped his ambitiousness and, admittedly, his libido. He wrapped his arm around her back and brought her up with him, never parting his mouth. Evelyn carefully steered her injured leg away from potential clashing, but then he pinned her against the headboard. He was ravenous at this point.

His hands found the skin beneath her shirt as they crawled upward, giving her goosebumps. His lips found her neck, though he oly kissed along the curvature.

Evelyn's heart was racing faster than ever. Just as she felt Mitchell tugging at the waist of the boxer shorts of his she was still wearing, is when she knew the line was drawn.

She wanted this just as badly as he did, but she didn't feel like this was the right moment. Not like this when only one of them would remember it, and not when this was their first extreme bout of physical contact. She needed to be one hundred percent positive he could contain himself. Right now, she was ninety five percent sure.

"Mitchell…" She breathed, putting her hands on his chest and gently attempted prodding him away. He only paused, his hand starting to pull up her shirt.

"_John Mitchell!I_" Evelyn raised her voice just a notch, which seemed to work. Mitchell froze on the spot, but she couldn't tell if he was coming back to her or if he was angry.

Slowly, Mitchell's breathing reduced to a normal pace, his hands fell to his sides as he sat back on legs. She watched as his head hung a bit low. He seemed ashamed.

Evelyn slid closer to him and ran her hand through his hair, removing any of it that was shadowing his face. When he looked up at her again, his eyes had returned to normal.

Mitchell took her face in his hands and pulled her to him to give her a proper kiss, not one full of lust and hunger. She rested her hands on his shoulders and gingerly kissed him in return.

Mitchell couldn't describe the palpable delight that they had finally made the leap that they'd been wavering on for a time now. Not only that, but that he had made it through his greatest fear with both of them unscathed. He knew there were still many, many trials ahead of him and that if this continued, each time would be unique.

He pulled away and swiveled onto his back, bringing Evelyn down with him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Vampire was not on my list of suspicions." She muttered and she felt Mitchell's chest jump with a laugh.

Mitchell stared up at the dark ceiling. He would have a lot of tales to retell Evelyn once she let it sink in exactly what he was. The thought of ever speaking Herrick's name again would normally would his blood boil if he weren't so overcome by drowsiness.

Then there was the identifying of the clan who had confronted him in previous weeks and then barged their way into Evelyn's home. He assumed that somehow they had been keeping a keen eye on him; trying to solve the puzzle of what made him click.

They'd hit the nail on the head with each occurrence. He could re-locate again and take Evelyn with him, but there was no such thing as outwitting or outrunning a vampire, let alone when it was a group of them. What he needed to figure out was the mystery of why they seemed to be trying to get his attention, his interest, through ambiguous means.

Evelyn had a handful of questions for him, but she would save them for tomorrow. For now, they'd enjoy being able to fall asleep in the safety of each other's' arms.


	8. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

The following day, Evelyn was at school talking with her teachers about how she 'fell down the stairs carrying the dishes' and would need a few days to recover before she could come back.

While she was away, Mitchell was cleaning up her flat, scrubbing out any remaining blood stains. He would have to worry about any broken furniture later, but he didn't want Evelyn's landlord coming through here with it looking like a murder scene.

Mitchell was lucky in that he got away without paying rent – when he'd found his place, the landlord was boarding it up to never be used again. Something about it couldn't get him any tenants, so Mitchell sprung on the idea that he would take it. Since it was going to be patched up and abandoned anyway, his landlord let him stay for free.

As for last night, well…Mitchell still had his guard up. He felt he somehow got lucky that he didn't manage to tear Evelyn to shreds, because his bloodlust was preposterous. He was confident, however, that they could have a normal and healthy relationship so long as it wasn't while he was ravenous with thirst.

Back at home, Mitchell was putting his clothes away in his dresser (a rarity) when his eyes found George's necklace that was sitting on the surface. Mitchell frowned and picked it up, inspecting it closely.

Then it hit him. The message '_too late_', the necklace, the run-in in the alleyway, the break-in at Evelyn's. Why he hadn't put the pieces together earlier, he wasn't sure. They were all related. Mitchell's face twisted with anger.

These particular vampires were responsible for George's death. That explains how they were in possession of his necklace. The reason why they'd given it back to Mitchell was to serve as a reminder that he was _too late_ to save his best friend the night he and the family were ambushed, and set on fire.

They'd been keeping an eye on Mitchell since – for reasons he had yet to unscramble – until he emerged from his long period of 'hibernation' and got close to someone again.

Everyone he got close to he lost. Undeniably, they were planning to do much more damage to Evelyn than what they got away with. Given the words she picked up that night, they had a plan. Mitchell's goal was to figure that plan out. How he would go about achieving this, he didn't know yet.

As he was getting lost in his thoughts, he heard Evelyn walk in downstairs. He snapped out of it and descended the stairs to meet her.

"How did it go?" He asked, planting a kiss on her forehead. She was beginning to heal, although there was still quite a ways to go. The healing process seemed to be going a bit faster for her, even as a human, but Evelyn had a theory it was due to her chemo drugs.

Evelyn unraveled the scarf from her neck. "Well, they didn't know who I was at first. I completely forgot that the last time I was there I had hair on my head." She scrunched her face in an 'oops' expression.

Mitchell's mouth formed an 'o' shape. "But they believed you?" His voice raised into a squeaky, sarcastic tone. "Because you are a _terrible_ liar." He was smirking.

Evelyn whipped him with her scarf. "I'll have you know that you are _wrong_, because they believed every word."

He stared at her, eyebrows raised, his face reading that of complete denial.

She rolled her eyes, "says the guy who lied to me for _three months_ about his 'hobby'!"

"You're treading on dangerous territory." His face turned solid and unblinking as his voice deepened.

She wasn't buying it.

"I'll take my chances." She challenged, reflecting his expression back to him.

Mitchell took a step closer to her, not quite filling the space between them. He stared hard into his eyes, his eyes shadowed by his brows.

Evelyn bit her bottom lip to refrain from squawking at his attempt to frighten her. She shook her head at him.

He leaned down and rested his hands on her face before kissing her softly. She froze on the spot, returning this embrace, but he pulled away just slightly. This time, his face was honestly filled with concern.

"Don't _ever_ take any chances with me. Not when I'm like…how I can get." He murmured.

Evelyn still hadn't fully digested her recent discovery; she'd just accepted it temporarily until she had time to stew on it.

She nodded in response.

"You have to promise. If I _ever_ even _begin_ to get out of hand…even if it meant ki-"

"_Mitchell!_" Her voice was nearly a shout and it caught them both off guard. "I would never go that far, not ever! But I promise if there are any…any warning signs that it might get bad, I'll do what I can to stop it. Even if I have to remove myself from the situation…but that's as far as I'll go." She said sternly. This seemed to be enough for Mitchell, at least for now.

She had nearly forgotten what they were talking about prior to this conversation. "Oh, I explained everything to my instructors with my treatment and everything. I guess I've been reduced to a part part-time schedule. It basically means I can come in whenever my schedule allows." She sighed heavily, this was the exact opposite of what she wanted: to be pitied by everyone.

Mitchell's brows furrowed. "That's _ridiculous!_ You're paying them and…and this is a dream come true for you, now they decide to handicap you? I'll handle it." He made one swift movement toward the door but Evelyn put her hand to his chest to stop him.

"No! Please don't." She begged as he backed up. "It's probably for the better because I'm more susceptible to picking up other sicknesses and germs. It's not what I wanted or expected at all…but at least they are still letting me come in."

Plus, she was a bit scared to know what methods of threat Mitchell would use against the board of directors at the school.

Mitchell released an exhale through his mouth. "Fine, but if they do anything more ridiculous, I'll give them a piece of my mind."

Evelyn knew she was supposed to be taking him seriously, but she found is possibly oddly attractive _and_ adorable when he got flustered. He noticed this on her face.

"Are you teasing me?" His voice squeaked and his mouth formed a sideways smile. "You little shit!" In one swift movement he swept her legs from off the floor and carried her over to the couch. Evelyn nearly wet herself with laughter.

"Worst. Vampire. _Ever!"_ She teased as he lightly dropped her on the couch and hovered himself above her.

"You haven't seen anything yet." He was mostly teasing, but there was actually a whole _lot_ of truth to that sentiment.

He sat down beside her and rested her legs across his lap. Evelyn regained herself and then remembered all that they had yet to cover, mainly about Mitchell. Or really, all about Mitchell.

When she had asked him about his friends and how she assumed they weren't ordinary like her, he rehashed the real story of George, Nina and baby Eve.

"When Annie and I'd first heard about you moving here, into that house…it was just blatant surprise. The general public only knew a murder had taken place in there, and that was what everyone believed, obviously. But it was _them_, and after they'd done their business they made a sick attempt at burying their evidence."

As Mitchell spoke of this, Evelyn noticed the muscles in his jaw tightening in anguish. She sat up so that she could sit next to him and wrapped her arm around his chest as he continued.

Mitchell swallowed a knot in his throat. "It's been _nine fucking years_, and it still lives in my memory like it happened yesterday." He shook his head up at the ceiling.

Evelyn couldn't stand the sound of pure disenchantment coming from him. It broke her heart.

After he calmed himself down, he went on. "I remember I was coming home from work. It was Eve's first birthday and we were going to celebrate together. I was running late and Annie had been waiting for me before we went. But it was…I was…" His eyes glazed over. "Too late."

Evelyn listened intently and noticed he had stopped breathing. She tilted her head up to see that he was resisting the urge to sob, but that a few tears had leaked from his eyes. She felt her stomach drop as she cupped part of his cheek in her hand and rested her forehead against his temple.

He allowed himself to fully grieve now, his face twisted in absolute misery.

"I know what you're thinking…" Evelyn whispered. "But the only reason you feel that it's you to blame is because you never, truly got over it. And you're reading too deeply into what those other _things_ have ingrained in your head. I can see it in your face when you talk about them. Every time it's as if you're punishing yourself for even remembering they existed. I never met George, Nina or Eve…but I can already tell by your account that they were wonderful people. And that they, and _Annie_, would probably strangle you if they knew you thought such horrible thoughts."

By now Mitchell's trembling body was still again. He didn't know what to say, or how to react, but she struck a chord. She was absolutely right, he had never allowed himself to grieve properly. Between then and now, his time was spent distracting himself from the reality that two of his three closest and only friends, and their child, had been murdered. They were stolen from him in a matter of minutes. He continuously blamed himself for this just because he just happened to have worked a little overtime that particular night.

The unnamed vampire who had confronted him in the alleyway knew this and latched onto it, using it against him. He assumed that they wanted something in return for him, that he'd be vulnerable enough to give it to them, whatever it was. But he wasn't _that_ weak.

Evelyn softly kissed his wet cheek and then began patting at his face with her sleeve to dry it. Mitchell couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he probably looked, albeit feeling a bit better.

"Now, I have to ask about Annie. Because she sounds lovely and I wish she hadn't moved away so we could hang out together. _And_ have tea. I didn't forget that tidbit." She smiled at him and he returned this gesture. His eyes were swollen and red replaced the white of them.

"I hate to break this news to you…I do, really." He actually had forgotten a major detail about a future encounter between Annie and Evelyn. "But, you can't actually see Annie."

Evelyn thought about this, then frowned. "Does she have a disease? Does she secretly have really bad breath or…or wait, she can't possibly not visit you?"

Mitchell flung his head back onto the couch and bellowed loudly; he hadn't taken into account that not seeing Annie meant a whole other context to him than it would for Evelyn.

"_No,_ no. I mean, you can't _seeee_ her. She's a ghost." He rolled his head onto its side to watch her expression.

She was utterly shattered by this news and her body language showed it. "Thanks for bursting my enthusiastic little bubble."

Mitchell was smiling crookedly as he gingerly rubbed his hand among her shaven head.

"Wait, wait…so you're a vampire, Annie's a ghost, and George and his family…?" She had forgotten to even ask. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"Werewolves. That is, except for Eve. We'd never…_quite_ figured that one out now that I think about it. Just don't ask _how_ it happened, if you catch my drift." He chuckled at himself.

"I got ya loud and clear. But I have to admit I'm still gutted I can't meet Annie. What about…can I hear her at least?" Her voice rose in guarded optimism, but Mitchell only shook his head.

"Now I have to ask, when you…get thirsty, or however you phrase it, what do _you_ do about it? Because as far as I've noticed, you'd never shown up at my front door covered in blood. You do drink blood, right?" She was beginning to think she delved too far into the fictional monster stories she was used to.

Mitchell tried to choose his words carefully; would it be right to spill his guts about people he had murdered even if he hadn't done so for years now? He had nearly slipped up in the alleyway that one time, although she ended up not being human.

"To answer you last question, yes. And to answer the first…" He sighed. It wasn't exactly anything he was proud of admitting, but there it was. "Typically, there are two methods. A lot of the time they are not exclusive to each other. The first is…well, innocents. I know, it's not an ideal circumstance to be in, but trust me when I say holding back in a drought is possibly the most grueling feeling to _ever_ experience. It's even worse later when you've only just realized what you had done, but that's only if you've got a sympathetic bone in your body. Most don't."

Evelyn listened quietly, curling up beside him.

"And the second…" It wasn't often he was made to feel self-conscious, but the exception was now. "The second is something shared between two vampires where they help each other and then they're happy." His statement ran together to sound like one giant, jumbled word.

Evelyn sat up and stared at him in disbelief. He swallowed. "'You're such a _terrible _liar'!" She quoted his accusation to her from earlier, yanking on a piece of chest hair poking out from beneath his shirt. He rubbed his hand over the tingling area and wrapped his arms around Evelyn, squeezing her with as much force as he could without breaking her bones or irritating her bruised area.

"You're awful at revenge!" She croaked under his pressure before it loosened. "Tell me what actually happens. I know you're avoiding it; it's just making me more curious. You are officially an open book and you owe me all your secrets."

Mitchell gave her a look. "You really don't want to know, it was hard enough having to explain this to Annie back in the day."

Evelyn pinched more of his chest hair between her fingers threateningly and he quickly reflexed, smashing her hands with his so she couldn't move them. "_Alright_, alright." His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. "We basically have really intense and hardcore sex and feed off of each other. Is that better?" He sarcastically stared at her with an annoyed expression.

Evelyn sat in silence, or more in shock. "Oh." She blurted.

Mitchell exhaled a long sigh and sank into the couch. "It's like what I told Annie. It's not _just_ sex, it can never _just be _sex for me. Ever."

"What about last night?" She whispered, unsure if this was a territory she should explore.

But he had to admit, he was a little stumped. "That was different. It was luck. And in those circumstances luck is almost never on my side because that has never happened before, not while I was…monstrous."

"You're the farthest thing from a monster. And I don't think it was 'luck', call me ignorant to the situation but I believe you handled yourself just fine." She tried to persuade him, and she did mean it for the most part. Toward the end of the night she knew that if she hadn't tried to stop him, it may have gotten out of hand.

"You say that because you've only experienced it once. This-" He planted a kiss on her lips. "-is fine. But not while I'm ravenous. At least…not until I know I can handle it without destroying everything in my sight."

Evelyn wasn't sure what it was, maybe the soft expression painted over his face, the fact that he referred to a future of them together, or both…but it made her heart race and her cheeks flush.

"H-have you ever…loved anyone? All lust aside. Have you ever madly loved somebody?" She was wondering where the line would be drawn, if there was one.

Mitchell scrunched up his face. "Aaah, that's a tough one. I know that's a strange answer, but I think I thought I did, but it was a different kind of love. It was more platonic than I thought at the time. It was actually with Annie, so I suppose it's a good thing you can't see her or, you know…" He clawed the air as if he were a cat, clearly indicating that Evelyn and Annie would fight over him, though teasingly.

Evelyn noticed his hands were preoccupied and she took this opportunity to rip out a patch of hair from his chest again. He howled for a second before laughing and rubbing the sore area on his chest.

"If I have a bald patch there by tomorrow, I'll make you pay for it. I've spent all my long years growing it out." He couldn't hide his smile; he really was awful at revenge…at least against Evelyn.

Evelyn made a boastful face. "Nah, I'll just make a wig out of 'em."

"Have you?" Mitchell asked out of nowhere, forgetting they'd changed topics. "I mean have you ever been in love?" His face was a mere inch from her face and she could feel her respiration increasing again. His face was too attractive and beautiful for words.

"No." She put simply, then sucked in a breath of air. "But I think I might be soon." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

It took Mitchell a stretch of time to understand that she was referring to him, that she could love him. The thought of someone loving him in that way was daunting and foreign; it never existed in his lifetime. Everything was pure lust for him, or thirst, or both. When he was with Annie, they thought they were in love. But by the end of their romantic relationship, they had both realized it was just their deeply rooted friendship where they loved each other. Just not in the sense that Evelyn meant.

He stared at her for a long time, and each second she was regretting her words.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes lingering downward. "Just don't act on anything you might regret."

She knew that he was only trying to protect her at arm's length, but she refused to accept it. Even if they only ended up remaining friends just as he and Annie did, she wanted to always be in his life. He devoted so much of himself to her and she was only just a stranger to him then. There was no way she could just ever forget that or let it go like it meant nothing to her. It meant more than anything else in her life. She would be happy staying friends, but she would be happier if they could be more.


	9. Preposition

**Preposition**

"I have a preposition" Mitchell stated as he plopped himself down beside Evelyn on the couch, handing her a cup of tea. He couldn't quite make tea as Annie had when she were here, but then again that was basically her living.

Evelyn gratefully took the tea and looked up at him from her newspaper, a hobby she had picked up from Mitchell after living with him for about a week now. "And what may that be?"

Knowing Mitchell, said preposition could be anything, really.

"Move in with me...permanently." He said as if this were the simplest idea ever.

Evelyn gave him a double-take; she hadn't quite expected that, even if his ideas _were_ rather bizarre at times. "Oh...already? Aren't we going a bit...fast?"

Mitchell chuckled; he hadn't thought of it in that sense. "It's mainly out of concern for your safety. I mean not that I wouldn't want to spend time away from you, or that you'd be a terrible flatmate. I just don't trust that place anymore...there've been too many incidents and they are certainly not coincidental. I think it's cursed and I wouldn't doubt if the vampires came back, if only to get at me again."

She understood now, although this set off a thought she had completely forgotten about: they hadn't properly spoke about the night she was attacked. At least, not properly. They had just established _what_ attacked her.

"Also..." he continued, "_if_ you decided to do it, you also wouldn't have to worry about rent. I know your medical expenses are going to only go up from here, and school." He knew that she was struggling financially – although her parents had left her with a sum of money, it was already dwindling what with her enrollment in school and the few hospital visits she'd had already.

Evelyn pondered this thought for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had moved here to become independent and live a new life, and now she was having difficulty staying on her own two feet. "And what would I tell my landlord? I'm already contracted for at least a year in my flat."

Mitchell cocked his head at her and looked up at her through his lashes. "Do you really think I'm not convincing enough to get him to change his mind? I could get him to do it in a _heart_beat."

She playfully shoved his head back into a proper upright position and grinned. "If you really think it will work and if you think it's for the best, then I accept." Even though it was a bit contradictory to be moving away from the trouble of vampires by moving _in_ with one.

Mitchell smiled from ear to ear and pinched her cheek before standing on his feet. "Well then, we better get a move on so it's settled. We'll grab as much as your stuff as possible...but I have to warn you, there's still some...uh, damage left over from the one night. But I'll talk to your landlord about it."

She just nodded and threw on her coat, following him out the door. "My landlord lived just across the street actually. I don't think I really have much left to move out with, so it should be relatively fast."

She shivered as the cool autumn air swept over her scalp. She was feeling a bit whoozy today as she had an early morning treatment, with school following. She was getting more and more adapted to the drugs, but it was in baby steps.

They reached her flat, which she hadn't been in for quite a while now. She had barely gotten acquainted with it. She allowed them in and the first thing she noticed was the condition of her furniture, which took her by surprise. Since she had been nearly unconscious for most of that event, she had no idea what had gone on soon after Mitchell had rescued her.

She walked them down the hall and into her room where she began grabbing things here and there. Mitchell spotted a few picture frames on her vanity and leaned closer to have a look. A woman in her fourties was on Evelyn's right, and a man just a little older on her other side. He presumed these were her parents, and the resemblance to them was uncanny. Her mother's face was littered with freckles and the very same heart-shaped face, while she clearly had her father's vibrant, clear emerald eyes. Mitchell drew a sad smile.

"Were you close to them? Your parents?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned the other photos.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder as she draped some clothes over her arm, and smiled. "I was. I didn't have any siblings so it was always just me and them, and they spoiled me to death."

Mitchell straightened his back and carefully collected the pictures for her. "And you said they were in a drunk driving incident?" He asked softly. He wasn't entirely certain how touchy the subject was for her as they barely spoke of it after they first met.

"That's what I was told, but..." She paused in the middle of folding some clothes, her eyes becoming unfocused.

Mitchell's brows knitted together and he shook his head, "We don't have to talk about it, I shouldn't have brought it up..."

Evelyn snapped out of her daze and looked over at him almost bewildered. "Oh, no! It's fine, really. I guess I just haven't actually been able to talk about it since it happened. But yes, that's what happened. Apparently it was so gruesome for my dad that that's why it had to be closed casket at his funeral. My mam was beaten up, but nothing to the extent of my dad."

Mitchell was now perched on the end of her bed, and Evelyn was staring idly at her hands below her.

Mitchell watched her intently, his brows shaped in sympathy for her. "How was she after it all?"

Evelyn continued to fold what clothes she had left as she spoke. "She was terrible. I still haven't quite put my finger on why she had been so...broken after it happened. I mean, she couldn't speak anymore, even up until she passed. She would constantly have these crazy and horrifying outbursts at home and she had to be taken to the ward several times a week, even when she seemed normal. When she had them it was as if she were having a stroke and she would try so hard to get my attention as if she were dying, and the first few times I thought she really was. But the doctors told me it was just a severe case of post-traumatic stress. The fear in her face was indescribable, almost like she were losing my dad all over again."

Evelyn didn't notice a few tears had leaked from her eyes until she finished speaking. Mitchell felt helpless as he reached his hand over to grasp hers. He understood that she had a tough life, although despite it she was still one of the strongest people he had ever met. He could think of several people he'd met in his long lifetime who wouldn't have jumped the hurdles she had, and she still had many years to go. He knew that she was her mother's sole caregiver while balancing school, and she had put off her university dreams to care for her until she passed.

"She would have adored you, ya know." She grinned while she wiped away the wet from her cheeks with her free hand. "And my dad probably would have been intimidated by your looks. He probably would have assumed you were part of a motorcycle gang."

Mitchell gave a small laugh, looking at her. "I'm sure I would have brought on the charm, naturally." They laughed and he gently pulled her over to stand in front of him.

She was a mere five inches from his face and she couldn't help but break into a cheeky grin, staring down at him. Although he was sitting, she was still barely taller than him while standing. "You are quite the charmer, I'll give you that."

Mitchell's face slowly receded into a placid expression as his eyes flickered between Evelyn's eyes and her lips. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them and softly met her lips with his. Evelyn's brows raised in mild surprise and her heart had nearly burst from her chest. Her dizziness returned, but this time it wasn't due to the chemo drugs.

Aside from the night Mitchell had brought out his other alias as a vampire, and became quite...well, monstrous, they hadn't had any proper romantic involvement. Little did Evelyn know that that night had been quite mild for Mitchell, which he would constantly remind her.

She leaned into his mouth and loosely rested her arms around his neck while his hands laid on her waist. Mitchell could feel his adrenaline rushing through his body and his breathing accelerated, but this time it was a human reaction and one he knew he could keep under control so long as he kept concentrated.

After a moment or two, Mitchell pulled away just a couple centimeters, his voice in a whisper, "shall we get goin' then?"

Evelyn sighed comfortably whilst nodding, breaking their grasp on one another as she gathered all her belongings into one pile. Mitchell found a good sized luggage bag and assisted her in packing it.

"How about you take this all back to my place and I'll have a chat with the landlord." He suggested and when she nodded, he planted a kiss on her cheek before exiting the house.

Evelyn smiled after him, her cheek feeling slightly tingly. She wasn't sure where things were going between them or if it were proper that she was moving in with him just as things seemed to be getting started romantically, but when it came down to risking her life living alone or possibly making a giant, hurried leap in their relationship...she would much prefer the latter. Besides, it wasn't as if she were moving in solely for the purpose of encouraging any romance. It was just a package deal.

By the time Evelyn had said an appropriate goodbye to her short-lived residence, especially the main room that Mitchell had painted for her, Mitchell had already returned from her landlord's office as she was descending the porch.

"Did it go well?" She asked hopefully, unsure of what tactics he had under his sleeve in convincing her landlord to break contract just a couple months in.

Mitchell smirked and nodded his head. "Oh, I'd say it went just grandly. All I had to do was threaten him with the possibility of the responsibility of your future, inevitable death due to electrical technicalities." He burst out laughing at her befuddled expression, but when he didn't take back what he said, she knew he wasn't yanking her chain.

"You're not even joking!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "But of all the things you could have said, why that one?"

Mitchell shrugged, his brows raised. "He wouldn't budge when I was being truthful, so...I knew he had been George's landlord way back when and was aware of the 'electrical fire' that killed him. Honestly, you would think he would have jumped at the chance to affirm that they'd taken care of that. Even though that wasn't the real cause."

Evelyn had to laugh; she certainly was right in that Mitchell had a wild imagination at times, and one that somehow aided him when he needed it most.

When they arrived at Mitchell's and Evelyn had unpacked her small portion of belongings in the spare bedroom, Mitchell had missed a call from Annie which he was now returning. Evelyn still wanted the chance to meet Annie, as she was such an integral piece to Mitchell's life. She didn't know if she could actually see her.

Evelyn lingered upstairs give Mitchell privacy on the telephone, and while she did so she began tidying up Mitchell's bedroom. He was notorious for bombarding his floor with his dirty clothes, so she decided she'd fix this for him. It was a miracle the floor could actually be seen beneath it all sometimes.

Mitchell had just hung up the phone as he leapt his way up the stairs only to find his bedroom in mint condition. He stood there baffled for a minute before Evelyn crept up behind him and lightly jabbed him in the ribs.

"Oh, Jesus, you gave me a fright. What's all this?" He nodded at his bedroom.

Evelyn shrugged lazily. "I've noticed laundry isn't your strong suit, so since you're allowing me a place to stay, I can take over that role."

Mitchell gave her a look that read 'don't be ridiculous'. "I like it messy; think of it more as an organized mess." He said as if he were in deep concentration by this notion. "You just worry about you; I'm a man now." He said with a tone of playful sarcasm.

"_Sometimes_." She jokingly retorted, which then owed her Mitchell scooping her up and gently dropping her on his bed. He puffed his chest out in an exaggerated manner and put on on determined face, his arms held out at his sides.

Evelyn burst into fits of giggles as he melodramatically presumed his most manly appearance.

"Who's a man now?" His voice dropped into a mockingly sinister tone.

Evelyn couldn't even breathe properly let alone answer him. Instead, she brought her feet up, placed them against Mitchell's abs, and began pushing him away.

Mitchell bit his lip and was barely moved even slightly. He broke character and howled out loud at her sad attempt to deter him. "You are _terrible_ at this! Is this really your self defense? We need to work on that."

She was laughing so hard now her eyes were crying and her stomach was in knots. Mitchell removed her feet and crawled onto the bed, hovering above her while they laughed at her patheticness.

Once she recomposed herself, she looked at him. "That's why I have you."

"You don't want to have me for _that_. _That_ is not something...pleasant." He stated, and although he felt like he turned the mood stale, he meant it. He didn't want to deter her completely, he just wanted her to always be aware that he _could_ be dangerous. It was inconsistent but could happen at any time.

Evelyn subconsciously played with his thick mass of curls on his head. "Why did they come after me anyway? It wasn't as if I'd made myself notorious, or even a threat." She asked, keeping her voice low.

Mitchell hesitated, but this was a topic bound to be brought to life again and she deserved to know now that she knew him as the real him. "It was an indirect attack on me. They'd clearly been watching me for some time and were looking for anything they could use to get my attention. It worked. But that wasn't the first encounter."

He'd forgotten about mentioning the day he had been confronted by the woman vampire in the alley shortly before they'd raided Evelyn's home.

She kept her eyes focused on his hair. "How do you mean?"

"That woman vampire...I assume she's essentially the operator of that whole group. Well anyhow, not long before they had found you she found me around town. I was...I wasn't in the right frame of mind and didn't know what was going on." He swallowed; he would leave out the details of what he thought was going to happen in that alleyway, and he knew Evelyn could at least fill in the blanks as to what he was referring to. "But, she was responsible for returning George's necklace to me...responsible for his death. I hadn't even connected the dots until after they had broken into your house."

He could feel his blood beginning to boil, and Evelyn could see the anger rising in his face and the tremble of his body. He was staring up a the walls ahead of him blankly, clenching his jaw. Evelyn guided her hands to his face. While she mostly trusted Mitchell, even when he was in his vampiric form, there was a small part of her that knew he was potentially dangerous. Maybe it was he that hammered this into her head that caused her to believe it, but until something happened, she wouldn't treat him any different.

Mitchell forced himself to calm down and shifted his body to lye beside Evelyn. She decided that this answer was good enough and that before Mitchell could burst into angry flames, she should change the topic.

"How is Annie?" She asked, turning onto her side to face him. She winced as she accidentally put pressure on her injured arm – she was healing normally, faster than usual even, but there was still pain.

Mitchell switched thoughts and began to recall his conversation with Annie. His mood went from livid to exuberant in a flash. His brows raised excitedly and he turned his head to look at her.

"They've set their wedding date for December and they want us to be there! In fact, they've already bought our airfare." He said joyously. "I don't think I've ever heard Annie so happy. I mean before it was a balance of happy-go-lucky and then she'd be so down on herself the next week."

Evelyn grinned at this, though she did have a question that needed answering. "Is Annie...visible to me?"

Mitchell chuckled a bit. "Uuh, she should be, yeah. It depends on her mood, but I'd say she's quite jubilant at the moment. If she were, ya know...severely depressed, then you probably wouldn't be able to see her."

"Okay, good...because how weird would it be to be staring through two people who I was supposed to be celebrating?" She laughed at the thought of her clapping and cheering for the shrubbery behind the invisible Annie and Cedric.

"Well, there's three months for her to decide she hates Cedric and then I take back my words." He joked with a sly grin. He had only just now noticed how late it was and Evelyn had to be up early for school in the morning.

"I think it's time for a certain someone to get some shuteye." He sat up and brought Evelyn with him. She stuck her tongue out in mock disgust.

"I've only one class tomorrow which means you get to spend the rest of the day with little ol' _me_." She smiled as she stood.

"Oh, damn. How ever will I cope?" Mitchell asked in a mock Romeo-esque way. He walked her to the threshold of the door and swiftly turned her around so he could plant a proper kiss on her.

"Goodnight." He muttered, loosening his grip on her arm.

"'Night." She whispered before heading to the bathroom to prepare for sleep.

Mitchell quietly closed his door and sat back in his head, staring up at the moon-lit ceiling. It was going to be difficult to have certain wants and needs that he had to retain when Evelyn was just the next room over, and now so permanently. But he would stick to his principles and contain himself as much as part of him wanted nothing to do with those principles. They needed to pace themselves; more like he needed to pace himself so that whatever happened next, he was prepared for.

He waited until he heard Evelyn's bedroom door shut for confirmation that she'd gone to bed before he closed his eyes and felt sleep come immediately over him.


End file.
